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P ablilhLeaLbj- It .Phillips, X? 71, S f Pauls Cluirch Yara. 



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'//iztrstort del ' 



Pi^ Taylor fcu//. ' 






THE 

BRITISH NEPOS: 

CONSISTING OF 

SELECT LIVES 

OF 

ILLUSTRIOUS BRITONS, 

WHO HAVE 

Distinguished themselves by their Virtues, Talents, or 

remarkable Advancement in Lifej 

WITH INCIDENTAL PRACTICAL REFLECTIONS. 

Written purposely for -the Use of Schools, and carefully adapted 
to the Situations and Capacities of Youth. 

By WILLIAM mayor, LL.D. 

VICAR OF HURLEY, BERKSHIRE; 

CHAPLAIN TO THE EARL OF MOIRA; 

And Author of The New Universul Historyy Natural History f(7T 

Schools, etc, etc, etc. 



SEVENTH EDITION, 
WITPI TWENTY-FOUR PORTRAITS. 



Hie manus otrpMtriam pugnando viilnera passi; 
Uuiqr.e saccrdoies cas"!, duni vita.manebat ; 

•i.iique pii vates, et Pho^bo di^na locuti : 
inventas aul qui virara excolni^ieper arres;*^ 
Uuique sui memore* alios ie'cefe mereado. 



LONliON: 

PRINTED FOR RICHARD PHILLIPS, 

No. 6, Bridge Street, Blackfriars ; 

By R. Tayior and Co., 38, Shoe-lane. 



1806. 
"Price Five Shillings^ lound. 



^ 



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^ 



THE RIGHT HONO»ts:aBLE 

THE EARL OF MOIRJ, 

BARON RAWDON- ltc.etc. etc. 



MY LORDj 

In presenting io the public a new edition of a 
jt,ork which has gained the most flattering, appro- 
bation, I am happy to embrace the opportunity 
afforded me, of evincing a small share of respect 
where I feel respect to be so justly due. The good and 
the great have ever been the models your Lordship 
has kept in view; and among the illustrious dead 
whom it has been my task to hold up as mirrors 
to the rising generation^ few, very few, in tRc esti- 
mation of the living, rank higher, for every qua- 
lity that adorns the nuan and the hero, than the 
Earl of MoiRA, 

It is the peculiar felicity of those who have 
the honour to be in any way connected with yotir 
Lordship, never to have occasion to justify your 
conduct^ or to vindicate your fame; and seldom 
is it the lot of public men, however able or up- 
right, to command this enviable distinction. 

That it may be late^ however^ before the future 
biographer can do full justige to your various 



( iv ) 

merits, by enrolling you iii the catalogue of de- 
parted British Worthies; and that you may long 
enjoy the applause of an enlightened nation which 
you have studied to serve, and the far better con- 
gratulations of a- mind conscious of worth ; is the 
fervent prayer of^ : 

MY LORD^ 

Your Lordship's most faithful 
and devoted servant^ 

. WILLIAM. MAYOR. 



PREFACE. 

JL HE propriety of a judicious biographical ma- 
nual for the use of Schools is so obvious^ that 
the author of the following pages is confident most 
persons will be struck with the existing deficiency 
as soon as it is named, and wonder that no attempt 
has hitherto been made to supply it. Such was 
the impression produced on his mind when he con- 
templated the various aids to education which mo- 
dern times have produced ; and yet found no work 
on the subject of Biography that could be recom- 
mended to youth without reserve, or indeed ap- 
peared to be intended for their exclusive use. Ex- 
ample is universally allowed to be more powerful 
than precept ; but so contracted is the sphere of 
action, so liniited the field of observation, in our 
earlyj}'ears, that unless the memoirs of eminent per- 
sons open sources of knowledge, or offer objects for 
imitation^ how are we to avoid the danger of irre- 
gular conduct or vicious habits ? how are we to 
catch the flame of emulation, or aspire to the lau- 
rels of desert ? 

It is one great advantage of classical studies, to. 
those who are fortunate enough to enjoy them, that 
in acquiring the languages of Greece and Home, 
we insensibly contract an acquaintance with soine 
of the most illustiious characters of antiquity, and 
are partially admitted into their venerable society. 
We learn to accompany a Solon and a Lycurgus 
in their legislative labours; wt hear a Plato and 
a Socrates philosophize, a Homer and a Virgil 
sing. From a Tully wc are eany warmed, by 
the glow of eloquence^ with the love of our couur 
A3 



Vt PREFACE> 

try ; from a Pliny we imbibe sentiments that 
heighten the social and domestic aiFections, and 
endear man to man. At the contemplation of svich 
monsters as the classic page sometimes pourtrays, 
the ingenuous mind revolts : a Tiberius^ a Nero^ 
or a Sejanus, rouses the indignant feelings of the 
soul ; and we learn to appreciate and execrate the 
sanguinary tyrant and the worthless minion, amidst 
the splendour of usurped power, and the flattery of 
grovelling sycophants. 

But the characters of those who acted on -a di- 
stant theatre, and have long since retired from the 
scene, are much less calculated to make an im- 
pression than such as have risen nearer our own 
times, and are connected with us by the ties of 
country, religion, and manners. 

The ancient models, however excellent, are not 
capable of being uniformly copied, nor do they 
strike with the same force as the modern. Their 
virtues and their vices are to be estimated accord- 
ing to a different standard ; they had neither the 
same views, nor the same incitements to action oe 
forbearance. The spirit of valour, the sense of 
justice, anxl the fervid love of their country, were 
eminently conspicuous in some Greek and Roman 
characters Which posterity will ever regard with 
admiration y while others reached such heights of 
lettered fame by the vigour of their genius, as al- 
most to check the competition of succeeding ages.. 
Reason however bids us confess, that the heroism 
of the best was frequently sullied by barbarity; that 
their inflexible justice savoured of cruelty, and 
their partial attachments were unfriendly to a gene- 
rous philanthropy j while their learning and man- 



PREFACE-. Vli 

ners were tinctured by the gross maxims ami the 
.cniel or superstitious practices of pagan theology. 

In a certain degree the virtues of the ancients 
ought to inspire emulation, and are worthy of being 
precedents to all posterity; but that soft charm- 
which a pure religion and more liberal notipns dif- 
fuse over^Christian manners, that animating pro-- 
spect which is now held out to encourage laudable 
endeavours, and those terrors which are denounced 
against nefarious acjions,. could not operate on clas- 
sical ages, because they were unknown- 

Hence when we wish to stimulate or to warn>- 
we ought to have recourse to such examples as Vvill 
more immediately allure by their practicability, or 
deter by their consequences. We ought to single 
out those who have been born under the same go- 
vernment, who have enjoyed the same privileges^ 
and who have been actuated by the same motives 
both pr&sent and future. A coincidence of origi- 
nal situation, however remote the end ; a convic* 
tion that what has been the passport to honour or. 
fame may still serve to conduct to the same result; 
will infallibly incite the youthful breast to pant for 
similar rev^ards, by pursuing the same line of con- 
duct. He who emulates, will thua find in the ob- 
ject of his emulation an incentive to hope, or au 
antidote against despair ; a guide in all difficulties, 
ijid a silent monitor that cannot wound his pride. — 
But Biography is not valuable only as an ex- 
ample to imitate, but as a beacon to warn. The 
impartial distribution of posthumous fame or cen- 
sure must have some eiFect on the most callous and 
unprincipled. The thought of being handed dowu 
to posterity in colours of infamy^ must frequently 



ym PREFACE*. 

repress the vicious machination, ahd forbid th€ 
atrocious deed. The love of reputation was im- 
planted in our natures for the wisest and noblest 
end. Few possess that unenviable magnanimity 
which can render them indifferent to public opi- 
nion ; or are so sunk in the apathy of vice, as to 
feel no melody in the sound of deserved applause. 

To praise desert can scarcely fail to be a stimulus 
to virtuous actions. Those who have benefited or 
enlightened mankind, should receive commendation 
with no niggardly hand. The flowers strewed on 
the grave of merit, are the most grateful incense to 
living; w^orth. Hpw often has the sight of the mo- 
numents in Westminster-abbey inspired the martial 
enthusiasm, the flame of patriotism, or the emula- 
tion of genius, in the youlhlul breast! There are 
generous passions in the soul of man which fre- 
quently lie dormant till some exciting cause serves 
to wake their susceptibility, and gives impulse to 
their native direction. Even a well- written amiable 
Life has tempted many to live well. 

Impressed with the truth (^f those remarks, the 
author has studied to lay heforet he public a selec- 
tion of the lives of those Britons who have render- 
ed themselves illustrious by their virtues or their 
talents in various spheres of action; compiled in 
such a manner as to sketch the prominent features 
of conduct, character and situation, rather than 
record the detail of ordinary events'^* To catch 



* The " Lives of Distinguished Persons," by Cornelius 
Nepos, a book constantly read in classical schools, a'sit first sug- 
gested the idea and title of this volume, also serVed as a kind of 
niodei in its execution. 



PREFACE. tX 

iht leading traits of juvenile propensity, to mark 
the steps that in riper years led to honour, and fa 
point out the miscarriages that prevented success^ 
have been his principal aim. ^ He has sometimes 
endeavoured to instruct by contrast, but more 
commonly to animate by models worthy of imita- 
tion. If the catalogue be thought too small, or 
the incidents too few, let it be remembered that he 
writes for youth alone ; and that he neither wished 
to bewilder their judgment, burden their memory, 
nor tax their pocket, by the size of his volume. 

It w^ould have been much easier to extend hl^ 
plan than to confine it within s\ich moderate limits, 
but it was unnecessary to add to the nulnerous 
works on general biography already before the 
public. They have passed the test of criticism, 
and are valued as they deserve by the accom- 
plished scholar. Happy will the present anther 
be to find that parents and instructors of youth 
deem his manual deserving their patronage, and 
adapted to the use of those for whom it is desisined* 
The motives which prompted a publication on this 
plan, cannot be wrong : if he has tailed to realize 
his ideas, it is only because it is easier to project 
than to execute ; to know what is right, than to 
be able to perform it. To the candour of the pub- 
lic he commits himself and his work, the first o£ 
its kind hitherto attempted in this country: he 
asks no praise but the praise of meaning well ; he 
fears no censure but that whicSl' must arise from a 
conscientiousness of voluntarjljerror or neo'lect.. 



CON^ 



CONTENTS. . 

Page. 

ALFRED THE GREAT 15 

FRIAR BACON ,..,.. 26 

JOHN WICKLIFF 29 

(tEOFFREY CHAUCER 3/ 

CARDINAL WOLSEY , . 4'2 

vSIR THOr>J AS MORE 51 

CROMWELL, EARL OF ESSEX 59 

BISHOP LATIMER 65 

SEBASTIAN CABOT . . 74 

BISHOP JEWELL 7S 

SIR THOMAS GRESHAM ............ ^. ... • Si 

THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON 93 

SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM 100 

SIR FRANCIS DRAKE ........ ...^ .......... . rG6 

LORD BURLEIGH . . . . • 1 3 & 

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE 130 

SIR WALTER RALEIGH 140 

LORD BACON 151 

ANDREWS^ BISHOP OF WINCHESTER ....... l6l 

SIR EDWARD COKE 1 6S 

EARL OF STRAFFORD 1 80 

JO^N HAMPDEN 1 8^ 

DR. WILLIAM HARVEY . 198 

ADMIRAL BLAKE £0^ 

EARL OF CLARENDON 21^ 

JOriN MILTON . .^ . . 222 

ANDREW MARVELL . 23v3 

ALGERNON SYDNE\^ 238 

ARCHBISHOP TILLOTSON . . ., 245 

JOHN LQCKE 255 

CHIEF JUSTICE HOLT 261 



CONTEXTS. XI 

BISHOP BURNET 263 

WILLIAM PEKN 277 

JOSEPH ADDISON .•.,., 283 

THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH SQl 

SIR ISAAC NEWTON , . 302 

ROBERT WALPOLE, EARL OF ORFORD 311 

THE EARL OF STAIR 318 

SIR HANS SLOANK 325 

GENERAL WOLFE i ..... . 332 

LORD ANSON 3S7 

^'HE EARL OF HARDWICKE 344 

SIR JOHN BARNARD 349 

LOR]) LITTELTON toSS 

THE EARL OF CHATHAM 363 

DAVID GARRICK ^ 373 

CAPTAIN COOK 381 

SIR WILLIAM BLACKSJTONB 389 

DR. JOHNSON 395 

BISHOP LOWTH 406 

JOHN HOWARD 413 

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS , . 421 

THE EARL OF MANSFIELD . 43] 

APPENDIX , 447 



LIST OF THE PLATES. 

The GENIUS o/'biography^ ^c. Frontispiece 

CHAUCER, and others Page 5G 

DRAKE, a?id others — 1 93 

MARVELL, and others . 248 

BLACKSTONE, and others ■ 368 



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THE 



BRITISH NEPOS; 



CONSISTING er 



SELECT LIVES OF ILLUSTRIOUS BRITONS. 



ALFRED THE GREAT. 

Born 849— Died about 900, 

In whatever light we consider Alfred, whether as a 
legislator, a hero, or a king, we shall have reason to 
pronounce him one of the greatest and the best of 
men. It is, therefore, peculiarly proper to commence 
this manual, which is intended as a mirror for youth, 
by briefly recording the eventful life of one of the ear- 
liest luminaries of this island ; and the most brilliant 
example perhaps of talents, enterprise, patience, fortU 
tude, and universal virtue, that the volume of history 
contains. 

This accomplished prince was the youngest son of 
Ethelwolf; and grandson of Egbert, under w^hom the 
kingdoms of the Saxon heptarchy were first connected 
into one state. He was born at Wantage, In Berkshire ; 
and gave early indications of those virtues and abilities 
which, in the sequel, were instrumental in saving his 
country from utter subversion. His father, who was* 
fitter for a monk than for a king ; and who entertained 
a profound veneration for the see of Rome, which 
increased with his years ; carried this his favourite 
son to the p^al court when very young:, and soo^ 

B 



16 ALFRED* 

after their return, again sent the young prmce thither 
with a splendid retinue; where, a report being spread 
of the death of Ethelv/olf, pope Leo the Tliird gave him 
the royal unction, though still a boy, and (as the 
youngest of five brothers) very remote from any pro- 
spect of a throne. It is probable, however, that the 
early genius of Alfred gave his holiness presages of fu- 
ture greatness ; or perhaps by this ceremony the pope 
meant to assume the power for which his successors 
afterwards contended, of conferring kingdoms at plea- 
sure. The novelty and grandeur >of the scenes which 
Rome displayed to the youthful hero, mad^ an impres- 
sion on his miind which was neVer afterwards effaced ; 
and he profited more by his own quickness of appre- 
hension than by the partiality of the pope, who had de- 
stined him to be a king. 

After his second return from Rome, his father made 
him the idol of his fondest but misguided affection. He 
indulged him in every pleasure ; and so neglected his 
education, that when he was twelve years of age he was 
still ignorant of the lowest elements of literature. His 
mother, having a taste for Saxon poetry, encouraged her 
son, by rewards adapted to his juvenile years, to commit 
some verses to memory.' The noble and elevated senti- 
ments with which nature had endowed him, were now 
roused into action. Not satisfied with reciting, he 
speedily learnt to read his native tongue ; and after- 
wards acquired a knowledge of Latin; which, opening 
new sources of mental improvement to' him, fanned the 
ingenuous ardour that lay sm.othered in his breast. 

Ethelwolf divided his property and his kingdoms 
among his sons with impartial affection. Alfred, being 
exempted from the cares of sovereignty, devoted much 
of his time to literary pursuits. He had, however, fre- 
quent opportunities o£ displaying his courage against 
the Danes ; and his three elder brothers dying after 



ALFRED. IT 

short reigns, he was appointed minister and general to 
Etheldred, who next assumed the government. In a 
battle fought soon afterwards, Etheldred was mortally- 
wounded ; and Alfred, in the twenty-second year of his 
age, was called, to his unspeakable regret, from learned 
leisure, in which he took the most sincere delight, to 
the defence, not the enjoyment, of a crown. 

The Danes were now ravaging the country ; and 
scarcely had he time to bury his brother, before he was 
obliged to take the iield against them with inferior 
numbers. The enemy, however, accepted terms of ac- 
commodation, and agreed to leave the kingdom : but 
no sooner were they' at a distance from a power to 
which they had reluctantly yielded, than they- renewed 
their devastations ; and fresh swarms pouring in from 
the north, they penetrated into Dorsetshire, the very 
centre of Alfred^s dominions. Again they were obhged 
to accept a treaty of the same purport as tliat which 
they had lately violated ; but with singular perfidy 
they seized the first opportunity of falling on Alfred's 
army ; and, having put it to the rout, obtained posses- 
sion of Exeter. 

The spirit of the prince rose Vv-itli the dangers he was 
called to encounter. He collected new forces; and 
pressed the foe with such vigour, that, after fighting 
eight battles in one year, he reduced them to the 
utmost extremiiy. Still, however, the love of peace 
was superior to a passion for military glory in the heart 
of Alfred : he listened to new proposals for accomo- 
dation; and insisted only that they should retire from 
his dominions, and suffer no further incursions of tlieir 
countrymen. But during the very conclusion of this 
hberal treaty, news was brought that a fresh band of 
invaders had landed, and surprised Chippenham, then 
a town of some Imporcance, and were carrying fire 
and sword through the heart of the kingdom. 
b2 " . ■ 



18 ALFRED. 

This last calamity reduced the English to despair. 
Each thought of his own preservation ; the authority of 
the king was disregarded, and all his eloquence and his 
heroism could not inspire them with resolution to make 
another effort in defence of their liberties and homes. 
In this dilemma Alfred prudently laid aside the ensigns 
of royalty, dismissed his attendants, and in the meanest 
attire endeavoured to conceal himself from the fury of 
his foes. History relates that he sought an asylum for 
some time with one of his own cowherds ; whose wife, 
ignorant of the condition of her guest, left him one day 
in charge of some cakes which w^ere toasting : but the 
mind of Alfred being intent on higher objects, he neg- 
lected his trust, and suffered them to burn ; on which the 
honest housewife scolded him well, and observed that as 
he had no objection to eat her warm cakes, he migkt 
feave taken some care in toasting them. Alfred was 
too magnanimous to resent this taunt : it doubtless ex- 
cited only an inward smile. 

The Danes becoming less ardent in their progress, 
he retired into the isle of Athelney in Somersetshire, a 
spot formed by the inundations of the rivers Thone and 
Parret, where he established himself; and gradually 
collecting a few of his most faithful adherents, whom 
he inspired with hopes of seeing better days, he sup- 
ported them in this sequestered and almost inaccessible 
re^^reat by occasional excursions in the environs. 

After lying twelve months in this concealment, me- 
ditating projects of delivering his country, he was 
informed that a party of his followers had routed a 
considerable body of the Danes, killed their chiefs, and 
taken the famous raven, or enchanted standard. 

This omen of success inspired him with fresh resolu- 
tion to take the field, and to discover himself to his sub- 
jects ; but prudently reflecting that caution should pre- 
cede enterprize, he disguised himself in the habit of a 



harper, and thus reconnoitred the enemy's camp In 
perfect security. His music, and his facetious humour, 
were so acceptable to the Danish prince, that he enter- 
tained him for some days ; little suspecting the quality 
of his guest, or the hostile object of his visit. 

Finding the enemy sunk in supine security from their 
contempt of the English, he summoned his nobles to 
bring their followers into the field; and by his appear- 
ance reanimated their drooping courage, and inspired 
them with a determination for liberty or death. Im- 
mediately taking advantage of tliis impresssron, he led 
his army against the Danes : who, panic-struck at this 
unejcpected attack, made but a feeble resistance ; and 
after great numbers of them we;e slain, the rest offered 
an unconditional submission. 

Alfred, no less generous than brave, fcrmed a sclieme 
for converting them from mortal enemies into faithful 
friends. He assigned them a part of the northern and 
eastern coasts ; on condition that they would embrace 
Christianity, betake themselves to habits of industry, and 
form a defence against any future incursions of their 
countrymen. This lenient and politic measure secured 
the peace of Alfred's reign for seveial years; during 
which time he applied himself with patriotic zeal and 
diligence to perfect the civil and military institutioiH, to 
rebuild the ruined cities (particularly London, which 
had been sacked with circumstances of great cruelty^ 
and destroyed), and to erect numerous castles and forts. 
At the same time, availing himself of the insular situa- 
tion, of Britain, he first raised a navy;^,which he in- 
stinctively foresaw would be the future bulwark of his 
kingdom. 

But as ships are of little use without sailors, he pro- 
moted navigation by every possible means ; and in time 
trained a body of men courageous and hardy ; and 
prompt, whenever called, to defend their nf^ive coasts 



20 ALFRED. 

from hostile aggression. Thus to Alfred wc are hi- 
debted, not only for many wise and salutary institu- 
tions which still have a sensible influence on our laws 
and government, but most particularly for establishing 
a mode of defence to which we owe our principal glory 
and security. 

So rapid seems to have been the increa^se of popula- 
tion in Scandinavia for some centuries, that colonies 
were sent out from those extensive regions in quick suc- 
cession, either to seek new settlements, or to enrich their, 
native country with the plunder of more southern na- 
tions. Accustomed to warfare, restrained by no ties 
divine or human, these barbarians carried devastation 
wherever they went ; and proved the terror and the. 
scourge of countries with which they could have no 
quarrel, or plausible pretext for enmity. 

Even the fame and prowess of Alfred could not, for. 
any long time, guard his coasts from violation. . The 
Danes tried to excel him in the art of naval war ; and 
made frequent descents, in some of which they, did 
considerable damage. On one occasion however, whea 
they had sailed up the Thames, and built a fort which 
commanded London, and numbers of their ships had 
been drawn up the Lea, he contrived to divert the 
course of that river, and to leave the vessels dry ; which 
extraordinary enterprise obliged the enemy to make a 
precipitate retreat. 

Still they returned with new means of annoyance ; and 
when they found themselves unable to cope with Al- 
fred's fleets in open fight, they carried on a piratical 
kind of warfare, more galling than any regular attack. 
A considerable number of these freebooters, however, 
having been made prisoners^ were brought to . trial 
at Winchester; and justly sentenced to be hanged, as 
the common enemies of mankind. 

This instance of welUimed Loverity, added tothefor« 



ALFRED. 21 

midable naval afid military force which Alfred now 
commanded, procured him tranquillity for the remain- 
der of his reign. During his last three years he was at 
full leisure to devote his time and his talents to arts the 
most glorious for a king to cultivate : he softened the fer 
rocious manners of his subjects by the encouragement 
which he gave to literature ; and taught them the value 
of industry, by securing to them the possession of proper- 
ty, and diffusing prosperity and happiness over a land 
to which these blessings had long been unknown. 

While engaged in these truly great pursuits, he was 
arrested by the hand of death, in the vigour of his age 
and faculties, after a splendid .reign of twenty-nine 
years : during which he had fought an almost unparal- 
leled number of battles with general success; and had 
deservedly acquired the titles of Great, and . Founder 
of the English Monarchy. 

Contrasted with the brightest ornaments of either an- 
cient or modern times, the character of Alfred will ap- 
pear to advantage. Whether regarded as a citizen, a 
king, a legislator, or a hero, he presents the finest mo- 
del for imitation that even the pov/er of fancy could 
delineate. In him the virtues were so v/ell tempered, 
and so justly blended, that none exceeded its proper 
limits. He possessed the most enterprising spirit, with 
the coolest prudence ; the most steady perseverance, 
with the mildest flexibility ; the most rigid justice, with 
tlie gentlest mercy. .He knew how to reconcile th© 
vigour of authority with the iirts that conciliate love ; 
and to give the sovereign command the air of a friendly 
recommendation. With the highest capacity, and the 
most ardent iriclination for science, he united the most 
shining talents for active life. His civil and military 
qualifications equally claim our admiration, and keep 
our judgment in suspense which ought die most to h^ 
the object of our applause* 



22 ALFRKIJ. 

Nature too, as if anxious to produce a finished model 
of excellence, had bestotved on Alfred every personal 
attraction that can please the eye or engage^ tJie heart. 
He was well made, active, and vigorous ; dignified in 
his mien and air ; with an open, engaging countenance, 
which never failed to allure regard. 

But the character of Alfred is too illustrious to be 
dismissed without a more particular enumeration of its 
leading features and brilliant energies ; for to hrm tan 
be traced the origin of several of the most valuable 
privileges and wisest institutions of our country. 

After he had repressed the incursions of the Danes, 
amd internal tranquillity gave him an opportunity of 
exerting his talents for government with effect, he began 
with establishing the principles of justice. Having di- 
vided the kingdom into counties, and these into hun- 
dreds and tithings, and established the incomparable 
mode of trial by juries, which is the best security of our 
liberties both personal and political ; in order to guide 
the magistrates in the administration of justice, he 
framed a body of laws which, though now lost, are not 
obsolete, but still operate in full force under the name of 
the COMMON law; an inestimable code of jurisprudence, 
by which the rights of individuals are most sacredly 
guarded, and public and private delinquents rendered 
>amenable to judicial animadversion. 

Though a convention of the states, on extraordinary 
Emergences, seems to have been of much earlier date 
than the refgn of Alfred, yet to him we owe their re- 
gular periodical meetings, which he fixed to be twice 
a year in London ; a city which he had himself re- 
paired and beautified, and constituted the capital of his 
kingdom* In these assemblies laws were enacted by 
the advice of the most enlightened and distinguished 
subjects ; while on ordinary occasions the monarch 
was directed by a kind of privy council, composed of 



ALFRED* 



23 



some among the principal persons who attended his 
court. 

When Alfred ascended the throne, he found his peo- 
pie in a state of ignorance and barbarism. He himself 
complains, that on his accession he could not find one- 
person south of the Thames, who was capable of trans- 
iating the Latin service into his mother- tongue. In 
every age, and among all nations, it has been found 
that purity of morals has kept pace with the extension 
©f sound knowledge and good principles. As a sove- 
reign, he saw it was his duty and his interest to pro- 
mote a spirit of learning among his subjects ; and his 
i>wn example must have furnished a very powerful in- 
centive. He not only excelled all the English of his 
time \n general literature ; but by. encouraging learned 
foreigners to settle here, and by an impartial appi ecia- 
tioa of merit, he rendered science both honourable 
and advantageous. He built and endowed many 
schools ; and if the illustrious university of Oxford does 
not own Alfred for its original founder, which is a 
point that has been disputed, it is generally allowed 
that to him it is indebted for some of its most valuable 
privileges, and much of its early reputation and dis- 
tinction. 

As genius is a plant which does not always or exclu- 
sively spring in a patrician soil, and without the foster- 
ing hand of patronage it can seldom bring its fruit to per- 
fection, this sagacious monarch not only sowed the seeds 
of knowledge, but took care,\\ hen they shot forth, to rear 
them with parental attention. The vicious and the. il- 
literate, v.'hatever other distinctions they might claim, 
were never the objects of Alfred's regard ; Vvdiile merit 
and science engrossed, as they deserved, all his favour, 
and every reward in his power to bestow. Indeed, this 
VN-as the golden age of literature among the Anglo- 
Saxons, the harvest was abundant, and the labourers 
B 5 



24 ALFRED. 

were not more than could obtain an ample recompence 
for their toil. Th? penetrating mind of the sovereign 
qualified him to discriminate between real and spe- 
cious claims to preferment : intrigue could not deceive 
him ; and interest was useless, when judgment, abilities^ 
and probity, were to decide the prize. 

Of the private life of Alfred we have few memorials ; 
but enough to shew that he was one of the most amia- 
ble of men in every domestic relation. Success could 
not elevate him to the extravagance of joy, nor the 
heaviest calamities effect him with unmanly despair.^ 
Ke inspired his children with a poTtion of his own ge- 
nius, and qualified them for the important de .*:inies to 
which they were born. To his friends he was open, 
cheerful, and communicative ; to his enemies he 
shev/ed no resentment after they were disarmed ; and 
to his country he was a truly a parental guardian. 
A remarkable economist of his time, he de^'oted one 
part to sleep and the .refection of his body by diet 
and exercise, another to the dispatch of business, and- 
the third to -study and devotion : and as, in those rude 
ages, the art of measuring hours was very imperfect, he 
used tapers of equal length, which he fixed in lanterns; 
and when one was burnt out, it warned him that a new- 
avocation awaited him. By this wise distribution of 
his time, though subject to frequent interruptions by ill 
health, and though he was obliged to fight in person 
fifty-six battles by sea and land, he acquired more 
knovrledge, and composed more books, some of which 
are still extant, in a life of no extraordinary lengthy 
than many possessed of genius and leisure, with all 
their laborious researciies, have been able to perform in 
more fortunate ages, though letters were the sole object 
of their pursuit. 

As the welfare and comiforts of society are not pro- 
moted by literature only, but also by the cultivation of 



ALFRED, 25 

humbler arts which come into daily use iand are equally 
necessary to all, he did not neglect to encourage me- 
chanical industry ; and no inventor or improver of 
whatever could tend to embellish life, or add to its 
conveniences, was suffered to go unrewarded. He like- 
wise introduced and encouraged manufactures ; and 
by his zeal for naval and commercial enterprize, first 
taught his subjects the art of. defending themselves at 
home, and the advantages of an interchange of produce 
and labour with foreign countries. 

To complete the character of this great hero, king, 
and scholar, he was temperate, pious, and devout* 
Knowing tliat states must rise or fall according to 
their attention to religion or their neglect of its pre- 
cepts, he rebuilt and restored almost every monastery 
in his dominions, which the fury of the Danes had 
brought to ruin ; he also founded and improved others, 
and gave many substantial proofs of his regard for the 
welfare of the church in all its component parts. 

Thus, in the latter part of the reign of Alfred, justice 
was purely administered, religion and its professors were 
respected, and the nation flourished in peace, kappiness, 
and security. The vigour of the sovereign's genius 
pervaded every department of the state. It is even 
said, the police was so excellent, that golden bracelets 
were hung up near the highways, and no one dared to 
touch them. Yet amidst this firm support of legal au- 
thority, Alfred preserved the most inviolable regard to 
the liberties and constitutional rights of his people. 
His last will, among other pathetic passages and be- 
quests to posterity, contains this ever-memorable senti- 
ment, the best pledge of his bemg a truly patpvIOt 
king: " // is just the English should for eve?' remain as 
free as their oiun thoughtsJ^ 



( 26 ) 
FRIAR BACON. 

Bom 1214.— Died 1294. 

From IBth Johuy to 22d Edward /. 

xVMONG those who have displayed superior abilities 
and penetration in an age when the gloom of igno- 
rance was too thick to be pierced by conimom minds, 
the illusti*ious friar Bacon will ever obtain a distin- 
guished rank. At any period, the vigour of his endow- 
ments would have- raised him above the mass of com- 
mon men ; but at the period in which he lived, his 
high attainments in knowledge, contrasted with the 
prevailing general ignorance, render him an object of 
profound respect, and challenge the applause and ad- 
miration of all posterity. 

Koger Bacon was born near Ilehester, in Som.erset- 
.shire, of respectable parents, in the year 1214. He be- 
gan his literary career at Oxford ; and thence removed 
to the university of Paris, which was then the grand 
centre of science and learning. Here the lustre of his 
talents began to be distinguished ; and his progress in 
die sciences rendered him the ornament of that institu- 
tion, and gained him some very valuable friends. He 
was particularly caressed hj his amiable and learned 
countryman, Robert Grosthead, afterwards bishop of 
Lincoln, whose patronage in this case at once gave and 
reflected honour. 

About the twenty-sixth year of his age, having ac- 
quired all the learning of the times (only, however, to 
detect its fallacy, and to substitute something better in 
its room), he returned to Oxford, and assumed the habit 
of the Franciscan order. The leisure which this situa- 
tion allowed him, he devoted to the ardent prosecution 
of experimental philosophy ; his favourite study, in 
which iie expended considerable sums- and made very 



FRIAR BACON. 27 

important discoveries. He at once emancipated him- 
self from the trammels of the existing system ; 
pierced the subtleties of the scholastic divinity witli an 
intuitive perspicacity ; and showed so little respect for 
the reigning absurdities, though rendered venerable by 
time, that he declared the vdiole works of Aristotle 
were fit only to be burnt. 

By his extraordinary talents, and astonishing progress 
in sciences which were then concealed from the rest of 
the world, or only known to a distinguished few, he 
could not fail to awaken envy, the constant attendant 
on worth and genius ; and his ilhterate fraternity, hav- 
ing neither sense nor diligence sufficient to keep pace 
with his discoveries, and unable to brook his intellectual 
superiority, spread among the vulgar a notion that he 
maintained an intercourse with evil spirits. Under 
this ridiculous pretence, which only convinces us how 
much his attainments were above the level of common 
understandings, he was restrained fiom reading lec- 
tures ; his writings were confined to his convent ; and 
finally, when he had reached the sixty-fourth year of his 
age, he was imprisoned in his cell. 

Still however, being indulged with the use of his 
books, he did not suffer his mind to be diverted from 
llie great object of hhr inquiries ; but extended his 
knowledge, corrected his former labours, and aug- 
mented them by some new and curious disquisitions. 
His OPUS MAjus, or Great Work, which is still extsait, 
had been prepared at the request of pope Clement the 
Fourth ; and after lying ten years in confinem-ent, he 
addressed a treatise to pope Nicholas the Fourth on the 
means of avoiding the infirmities of old age, and- im-. 
portuned that pontiff for his release.. The effect of this 
application is unknown : it certainly was not imme- 
diately regarded,. In the sequel however, being sup^ 
ported by several persons of distinction, Bacon was at 



28 FRIAR BACON- 

length set free : and spent the remainder of his days 
in tranquillity, in the college of his order, at Oxford ; 
where he died, in the eightieth year of his age, on the 
Uth of January 1294-. 

Such are the few particulars which even the most in- 
quisitive have been able to discover concerning this ho- 
nour of his country and pride of human nature ; who 
darted forth his light in the midst of monastic bigotry, 
like a star of the first magnitude in a dark hemisphere. 
He was incomparably the greatest philosopher of his: 
time, and in many respects may stand in competition 
with the most eminent of more enlightened ages. His 
writings are elegant, terse, and nervous ; and adorned 
with such exquisi e observations on nature, that he 
may be said to hate unlocked her treasury. In che- 
mistry he stood unrivalled ; and, according to Dr. 
Frend, almost every useful invention and operation 
which modern practice has adopted in this science, may 
be traced to its origin in his various works. He de- 
scribes the preparation of gunpov/der in the most pre- 
cise terms ; yet the Jesuit Barthol Schwartz, who lived 
several ages after, must doubtless be allowed the ho- 
nour or disgrace of pointing ou^t the destructive pur- 
poses to which this composltipu may be applied. 

From an attentive perusal ot'n?he works of this great 
luminary, it will be found that Brecon was a linguist and 
grammarian ; that he was well verged in the theory and 
practice of perspective ; that he understood the use and 
manufacture of convex and concave glasses ; that the 
camera obscura, the burning-glass, and the telescope, 
were familiar to him ; that he was intimately acquaint- 
ed with geography and astronomy ; that he was aware 
of the great error' in the calendar, assigned the cause, 
and proposed the remedy ; that he was an adept in che- 
mistry, and possessed great knov/ledge of the heahng 
art *y in fine, tliat he was an able mathematician, an ex- 



JOHN WICKLIFF. 29 

pert mechanic, a sound logician, and a rational theolo- 
gist. 

But witli all his acquirements, solid and valuable as 
they are, much dross was necessarily mixed. This how- 
ever was the fault of the age, and not of the man. 
Judicial astrology was then in high repute, and Bacon 
was a dupe to all its illusions. He tells us in one place, 
that life may be preserved by spermaceti, aloes, and dra- 
gon's flesh ; and that immortality itself may be secured 
by the philosopher's stone. These were the reveries 
of the times : in some respects it was impossible to sub- 
mit them to the test of experiment, and theory alone 
will ever be vague. He seems to have been unac- 
quainted with that noble discovery, the polarity of the 
magnetic needle ; but he has largely discoursed on the 
hazel rod of divination. 

" Yet notwithstanding some absurdities and cliimeras, 
this Bacon," says Voltaire, '' must be allowed to be a 
very great man for the age in which he lived. Ima- - 
gine to yourself the Samoides and Ostiacs to have read 
Aristotle and Avicenna, and you will have an idea of 
v/hat mankind then were. At that period all know- 
ledge was confined to the Arabians, who were the phi- 
losophers of Christendom. The king's fool," adds this 
witty author, " was always a native ; but the physiciaa 
or doctor was either an Arabian or a Jew." 



JOHN WICKLIFF. 

Born about 1324— Died 1384. 
From nth Edward 11.^ to 1th Richard I L 

If we trace many of the greatest events and the most: 
important discoveries to their source, we shall have die 



80 JOHN WICKLIFF. 

satisfaction to reflect, that some of the most astonisli- 
ing and beneficial which history records, have in a great 
measure originated from our illustrious countrymen ; 
among whom WickliiF will maintain just celebrity, as 
long as a love of truth and a detestation of imposture 
and intolerance shall actuate the human heart. 

This precursor of the reformation, which Luther and 
others had the honour of completing, was a native of 
WickliiF, near Richmond in Yorkshire ; but of his fa- 
mily, or his early years, w6 have no account. Being 
designed for the church, he was first sent to Queen's 
college, Oxford ; but the advantages for study in that 
newly established house not answering his expectations, 
he removed to Merton college in the same university, 
then esteemed one of the most learned societies in Eu- 
rope. 

At tliat period, a deep skill in dialectics, and an inti- 
mate acquaintance with the scholastic divinity, were 
the.grand passports to fame. To a man of Wickliff's 
penetrating genius, these " difficult trifles" seen gave 
way ; and he quickly became a very subtle disputant, 
and reigned in the schools without a competitor. It is 
probable, however, that he mastered the fashionable 
studies only to detect their fallacy and insignificance. 
In divinity he appears to have early chalked out a sim- 
pler path than any of his contemporaries had either the 
sense or the resolution to devise; he drew his tenets 
from the scriptures alone, and rejected the comments 
of the schoolmen, and the dogmas of authority. 

Having made himself conspicuous by his defence of 
the university against the mendicant friars, who pleaded 
that their practice was of gospel Institution, he acquired 
tlie reputation of a man of profound learning and abi- 
lities ; and in consequence was chosen master of Baiiol 
hall and- soon after warden of Canterbury college, by 
its founder archbishop Islip. A. schism had for some 

8: 



JOHN WICKLIFF. 31 

time agitated that society, which was composed of re- 
gulars and seculars ; and though its head now belonged 
to the latter order, this did not give such a preponde- 
rance as to ensure quiet. Some regulars who had been 
ejected by the founder, taking advantage of the promo- 
tion of Simon Langham to the primacy, a man who 
had been bred up with all the monastic prejudices, 
found in him a zealous patron ^ and sentence of expul- 
sion was passed on WicklifF and his associates in their 
turn* 

Such a flagrant piece of injustice raised a general out- 
cry, and Wickliif was advised to make an appeal to the 
pope : but through the stratagems of Langham, and 
the irresolute policy of Urban, after the business had 
been protracted to a great length, tlie ejectment was 
confirmed. 

On such casual points do the minds of men turn, 
that the virtue of pure principle is scarcely to be ex- 
pected. There can be little doubt that this decision 
finally determined WicklifF in his opposition to the 
holy see. In his previous writings, however, he had 
inveighed freely against the exactions and corruptions 
of the papal court ; and now the whole strength of his 
.excellent understanding was directed to expose its er- 
rors, and to lessen its influence. 

Notwithstanding his expulsion, his credit with the 
university was not lost. He took his degree of doctor 
in divinity with much distinction ; and the professor's 
chair in that science being vacant, he was chosen to fill 
it ; not only in compliment to his acknowledged merit, 
but as a remuneration for his loss. 

Yv^icklifF had now attained the summit of his ambi- 
tion. His station afi^orded him the opportunity he had 
been anxiously looking for^ of throwing new lights on 
the established religion of Europe. His reason and 
Jiis reflection convinced him, tliat the Romish religioa 



S2 JOHN WICKLIFF. 

was replete with errors In theory, and that the lives of 
its teachers were still worse in practice. His invete- 
racy against the monks was inflamed, and he omitted 
no opportunity of painting them in their genuine co- 
lours of infamy. — But amidst all his zeal for truth, and 
his antipathy to the interested supporters of a false 
and domineering religion, he proceeded with caution 
and circumspection. He first led his hearers into ha- 
bits of argumentation ; and artfully raised objections, 
rather that others might see through delusion, than. 
that he might have the credit and the danger of ex- 
posing it himself. . 

When he had accustomed men to think, he attempted 
a higher flight, and taught them to think justly. He 
removed the veil of prejudice by gradual but reite- 
rated efforts ; he let in the light by degrees, and - ki 
such proportions as he found the eyes of a people so 
long used to darkness could endure it. Though of a 
known hostility to the encroachments of the cliurch oi 
Rome, its most zealous partizans had some difficulty in 
finding out a plausible pretext to silence him: but at 
last they succeeded so far as to deprive him of his pro- 
fessorship ; and probably indulged the hope that, as 
the theatre of his exertion was closed, his principles 
would soon be forgotten. 

It happened, however, otherwise. The insolence of 
the pope in claiming from Edward the Third the ho- 
mage which had been paid l^y his weak predecessor 
John, roused the indignant feelings of John of Gaunt 
duke of Lancaster ; who, during the decline of his fa- 
ther, had the principal direction of public affairs ; and 
the pen of Wickllff was successfully exerted In defence 
of his sovereign and his fellow subjects. This proved 
the means of introducing hlmi to court. Tiie duke of 
Lancaster, who had liberal notions in religion for the 
time in which he lived, and was irritated by recent 



JOHN WICKLIFF. S3 

vexations from the clergy, seeing their animosity 
against Wickliff, took him under his protection, and 
treated him with a kindness proportioned to the enmity 
which he bore his adversaries. 

The grievances of the country from the papal domi- 
nation had reached such a height, that it was resolved 
to send an embassy to the pope to treat for the liberties 
of the church of England, At the head of this mis- 
sion, vv^l-iich proceeded to Bruges, were the bishop of 
Bangor and Dr. Wickliif. On the part of the see of 
Rome they were met by men in whom it could wholly 
confide. The negotiation was carried on with great 
ability on both sides ; and after its sittings had been 
protracted for two years, the English agents prevailed 
so far as to gain a stipulation that his holiness should 
no longer dispose of any benefices in England. This 
treaty, however, was eluded in a flagrant degree ; but 
in consequence of the talents which WickliiF had dis- 
played in it, he was presented by the king to the living 
of Lutterworth in Leicestershire, and soon after ob- 
tained a prebendal stall in the church of Westbury in 
the county of Gloucester. 

During his residence at Bruges, the views of the 
church of Rome had been gradually developed to the 
inquisitive and penetrating WickhfF; and he discovered 
it to be as corrupt in principle, as he had long known 
it to be depraved in practice. He now threw off the 
mask which he had worn so long, and thought it un-; 
worthy of his character to temporize. The pretended 
successor of St. Peter himself did not escape his invec- 
tives : the papal infillibiiity, usurpations, pride, ava- 
rice, and tyranny, were the frequent topics of his de- 
clamation ; and the appropriate epithet of Antichrist 
seems to have been first conferred on him by this great 
English reformer. 

Having sovrn the seed which he had reason to believe 



34 JOHN WICKLIFF. 

would ripen into a full harvest of shame to the church 
of Rome, he retired to his living in Leicestershire, in 
order to avoid the gathering storm. But his privacy, 
and his distance from Oxford, the scene of his honour- 
able labours, gave his enemies fresh spirits. A papal 
bull was forwarded to Sudbury archbishop of Canter- 
bury, and Courtney bishop of London, to secure this 
arch-heretic ; and at the same time the king and the 
ivniversity were importuned to favour the prosecution. 

WicklifF, being cited to appear before the bishop of 
London at St. Paul's church on a certain day, found 
himself obliged to notice the unexpected summons. In 
this situation he applied to his patron the duke of Lan- 
caster : who, though he wished to screen him wholly, 
judged it expedient to sacrifice something to appear- 
i»nces ; and only promised to attend him in person to 
his trial, accompanied by Percy earl-marshal of Eng. 
land. When they reached St. Paul's, the court was 
already convened, and they had some difficulty in pro- 
curing admission. The bishop, vexed to see WicklifF 
so honourably attended, let fall some peevish expres* 
5ions ; which the high-spirited and indignant Lancaster 
being unable to brook, he retorted them with great 
Avarmth, and even began to threaten. ** Sooner," said 
the duke, in a kind of half-whisper, << than bear such 
usage from a bishop, I will pull him by the hair of the 
head out of the church." The populace, however, 
hearing this menace, the whole assembly was instantly 
in a ferment. The general cry was, that they would 
.stand by their bishop to the last breath ; and the con- 
fusion rose to such a height, that the court broke up 
ia disorder, and its proceediugs were never resumed. 

The tumult, hov/ever, did not end so soon. The 
duke, in the agitation of his passions, immediately pro- 
ceeded to the house of peers ; wliere he preferred a bill 
to deprive the city of London of its privileges, and to 



JOHN WICKLIFF. 35 

alter its jurisdiction. In consequence of this, all was 
uproar and riot; and he was obliged to quit the city 
in precipitation, till the rage of tlie populace had sub- 
sided, 

WickllfF again sought the retirement of Lutterworth ; 
and proceeded in his great work, a translation of the 
scriptures into English. He appears to have met with 
no more molestation after this, till the death of Edward 
th3 Third ; when Richard the Second, son of Edward 
the Black Prince, only eleven: years of age, ascended 
the throne of his grandfather. 

On this occasion the duke of Lancaster, uncle to the 
young king, aspired to be sole regent ; but parliament 
put the office into commission, and allowed him only a 
single voice in the executive council. The clergy, who 
perceived his diminished influence, began their prose- 
cution against Wickl iff anew. Articles of accusation 
were drawn up ; and the pope, by several bulls, or- 
dered his imprisonment, or at least cited hirn to make 
his personal appearance at Rome within the space of 
three months, unless he should retract his heretical opi- 
nions. 

The bulls were treated with iteglect in general, and 
by parliment with contempt. The bishop of London 
alone entered into the spirit of the pope's mandate ; but 
scarcely had he taken the preliminary steps in this bu- 
siness, when he received a peremptory order from the 
duke of Lancaster, not to enforce imprisonment for the 
sake of opinion only, as that was a measure contrary to 
the lav/s of England. 

The bishop, being intimidated at this Interference, 
contented himself w4th citing Wickllff to a provincial 
synod at Lambeth ; where being questioned as to the 
articles of his faith, he gave an ambiguous explanation of 
them. He was therefore dismissed, with an injunction 
not to preach any more those doctrines which had been 



&6 JOHN WICKLIFF. 

objected to ; but his zeal, it appears, was inflamed by 
this restraint, and he afterwards enforced his tenets 
with more ardour than before. 

Falling into a dangerous illness at Oxford, some of 
the mendicant friars, to w^iom he had ever been an 
enemy, intruded into his chamber, and admonished him, 
for the good of his soul, to repent of the injuries which 
he had done them. WickliiF raised himself in his bed, 
and with a st^rn countenance exclaimed, " I shall not 
die, but live to declare the -evil deeds of the friars ;^* 
which resolute expression, we are told, drove away his 
ghostly monitors in confusion. 

Soon after this time, having finished his translation 
of the scriptures, he again became particularly ob- 
noxious to the clergy on that account. It had long 
been .a political tenet in the Romish creed, that igno- 
rance is the mother of devotion ; and therefore the 
bible had been locked up from the common people. But 
WicklifF was not satisfied with aiming this new blow at 
religious tyranny ^ he next ventured to attack the grand 
article of transubstantiation, in what he called his sixteen 
conclusions. These conclusions being reluctantly con- 
demned by the chancellor of Oxford, at the instigation 
of Courtney w^ho was now primate, WickliiF appealed 
to the king and parliament : but being deserted by his 
fickle patron, the duke of Lancaster, who was unwil- 
ling to embroil himself any further with the clergy, he 
was obliged to make a kind of recantation at Oxford ; 
and by the king's order was expelled the university, 
where he had still continued annually to read lectures 
in divinity. 

Again he found an asylum at Lutterworth ; but giv- 
ing fresh provocation by bis writings, he roused the 
keenest resentment in Urban, who then wore the papal 
crown ; apd in all probabuity would have suffered the 
utmost which that pontiff could inflict, had not provi- 
2 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER* 37 

dence delivered him from human hands. He was 
struck with a palsy soon after : but still attended divine 
worship ; till a repetition of this fatal malady carried 
him off, in his church at Lutterworth, in December 
1384. He was buried there 5 but after lying in the 
ground more than forty years unmolested, his bones 
were taken up and burnt, and the ashes scattered in 
the air, by order of the reigning pope. 

Such was the life and such the end of WicklifF; a 
man who may be regarded as one of the brightest orna- 
ments of his country, and as one of those luminaries 
which Providence raises up and directs as its instru- 
ment to enlighten and bless mankind. 

" To this intuitive genius,'' says Gilpin, " Christen- 
dom was unquestionably more obliged than to any 
name in the list of reformers. He opened the gates of 
darkness ; and let in, not a feeble and glimmering ray, 
but such an effulgence of light as was never afterwards 
obscured. He not only loosened prejudices, but ad- 
vanced such clear incontestable truths as, having once 
obtained footing, still kept their ground ; and even in 
an age o£ reformation, as will appear from his various 
existing writings, wanted but small amendment." 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 

Born 1328.— Died 1400. 
FromSLd Edward II L to 2(1 Edward IF. 

Whoever loves to hold dalliance with the muses, 
and delights to rove through the regions of fancy, will 
contemplate with pleasure the character of Geoffrey 
Chaucer ; not only as the father of English poetry, 
and a refiner of the English language, but as one of 



38 GEOFFREY GHAUCER. 

the brightest and most original geniuses that any age 
or country has produced. 

Though Chaucer was extolled in the highest terms 
of panegyric by his cotemporaries, and has deservedly 
maintained his reputation with posterity, from some 
strange fatality we know nothing certain of his parent- 
age, though it probably was genteel ; and even the 
place of his birth is not perfectly ascertained. In his 
*' Testament of Love," he call himself a Londoner : 
but Woodstock, his future residence, puts in its claim 
to the honour also of being his native place ; and he 
certainly has rendered k classic ground, by his natural 
but poetical description of some of its most delightful 
scenes. 

The same uncertainty that attends the history of his 
birth, attends that of his education. Whether he stu- 
died at Oxford or Cambridge, or at both universities 
successively, is a point much disputed by his biogra- 
phers ; nor can any new light be thrown, at this day, 
on the subject. That his education was excellent for 
that age, can scarcely be doubted, from the learning 
displayed in his v/orks ; but that his genius rose still 
superior to all the advantages of scholastic or aca^ 
demic institution, will admit of no dispute. 

Having left the university, he is supposed to have 
improved himself by travelling into France and the 
Low-countries ; and on his return, it is partly ascer- 
tained that he entered himself a member of the Inner 
Temple, and for some time prosecuted the study of 
the law. In a^ record of this society, published by 
Speght, the following fofct appears ; " Geoffrey Chaucer 
was fined two shillings, for beating a friar in Fleet- 
street." 

But though he might probably pay some attention 
to law-learning as an accomplishment, there is no rea- 
son to think that he ever practised it as a profession. 



GEOFFPvEY CHAUCER^ 39 

The sprlghtliness of his genius, the elegance of his 
form and manners, and the fertility of his endowments, 
seem eai'ly to have attracted the notice of the court: 
and he particularly devoted himself to the service of 
John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, son of Edward the 
Third ; by whose favour he obtained in marriage Phi- 
lippa, daughter of sir Pagan Rouet, and sister of the 
famous lady Catherine Swynford, first governess to the 
duke's children, and afterwards his wife. 

Chaucer was then in the flower of his age, admired 
for the elegance of his person, and distinguished for 
every other talent and aecamplishment that could ren- 
der him acceptable in the gay and splendid court of 
Edward the Third. As that monarch frequently-resided 
at Woodstock, Chaucei" had a house near the park gate ; 
-which still retains his name, though it has been entirely 
rebuilt and modernized : and here it is probable that h^ 
penned some of his happiest compositions. 

After serving for some time as the king's page, he 
was appointed a commissioner to treat with the repub- 
lic of Genoa for the hire of some ships ; and on his re- 
turn he obtained^ among other marks of roy^l favour, 
the grant of a pitcher of wine daily, Nejet year he 
was made comptroller of the customs of London, for 
wool and hides ; with a singular proviso, that he should 
•execute that office 'personally, and not by deput3f , and 
keep the accounts in his own liand-writing. This is 
a proof that Edward did not promote him for his po* 
-€tical talents, for in that case he would certainly have 
given him a dilFerent employm.ent. 

Soon after this, Chaucer was appointed to act as guar- 
dian to one of the king's wardsj an office of both honour 
and profit: and it appears that his income at that period 
was not less than a thousand pounds a year ; a sum 
which in those, days enabled him to support a splendid 
-hospitality congenial to his disposition, and to enjoy that 
c 



40 GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 

ease and affluence which It is so rarely the lot of a poet 
to possess. 

It was In this meridional sunshine of prosperity that 
he wrote his Canterbury Tales ; a poem which exhibits 
a striking variety of talents, an union of the sublime 
and the pathetic ; with such a fund of poignant satire, 
genuine humour, and knowledge of life, as is seldom 
paralleled. The clergy, both regular and secular, are 
the frequent object of his keenest animadversions ; and 
by this he most probably aimed to ingratiate himself 
the more with his patron the duke of Lancaster, who 
had openly espoused the cause of WickllfF. As the 
flame cf genius can with difficulty be separated from a 
love of liberty, Chaucer himself appears to have entered 
passionately into the views of that reformer ; a conduct, 
however, which in the sequel involved him in much 
trouble. 

When the duke of Lancaster found himself obliged 
to abandon the party of WickllfF, and to retire from 
public life for a time, the interest of Chaucer sunk at 
once, and he became from that instant exposed to all 
the malice of his patron's opponents. These misfortunes 
gave rise to that beautiful pefformance called The Tes- 
tament of LoVe, wTitten in imitation of Boetlus's Conso- 
lation of Philosophy. Satiated with the active scenes 
of life, which had deprived him of so many enjoyments, 
he retired to Woodstock ; where he again indulged his 
passion for study, and revised his former productions. 
Here he finished his admirable Treatise on the Astro- ' 
labe ; and became so attached to his rural retreat, that 
even the return of the duke of Lancaster to favour and 
power, and the marriage of that great man with the sis- 
ter of Chaucer's wife, could not seduce him from the 
tranquil scenes he loved. 

The sun of prosperity again warmed his evening 
iiour, Chaucer, by this last-mentioned alliance, ac- 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 41 

quired considerable property and influence : and, 
when abont seventy years of age, quitted Woodstock, 
for Donnington castle, near Newbury. 

Not long aftei-wards, Henry the Fourth, son of the 
duke of Lancaster, mounted the throne ; and in the 
first year of his reign conferred some marks of his re- 
gard on Chaucer. His former grants, however, being 
annulled, in common with all others passed in the late 
rei^n, the venerable bard, in the concluding scene of 
his'life, was obliged to become a solicitor at court for a 
renewal of his pensions ; and though he succeeded in a 
certain degree, the fatigue of attendance, and his great 
ap-e, prevented him from enjoying long the royal fa- 
vours. Falling sick at London, he died October 25th, 
1400, in the seventy-second year of his age ; with a kind 
of enviable philosophical composure, as appears from 
his song of '^ Fhe fro the Prese." . 

He was buried in Westminster-abbey ; \^'iiere, in 
1556, a monument was erected to his memory by Ni. 
cholas Brigham of Oxford, from a just regard for his 
talents. He left two sons, Thomas and Lewis; the 
former of whom was speaker of the house of commons 
in the reign of Henry the Fourth, and passed through 
several other high offices with reputation and applause. 
The private character of Chaucer appears to have 
been as amiable, as his literary attainments were iiius* 
trious. — Genteel and complaisant in his manners and 
address, frank and liberal in his disposition, he was at 
once die fine gentleman, the easy compapjon, and the 
learned writer. 

On his poetical and other literary qualifjcations, it h 
unnecessary to expatiate here. He was the father of 
English poetry, being the first who \VTOte original verses 
in his native tongue. Before his time ail poetical com- 
positions here were confined to the French and Latin, or 
translations from those languages. He was aUo the 
c2 



42 CARDINAL W0L3EY. 

first writer in England to whom the appellation of a 
poet, in Its genuine dignity, can be with propriety ap- 
plied. He attempted every species of versification, 
from the epigram to the epic, and was eminently suc- 
cessful in all. 

[The recent splendid publication of "The Life and Age ot 
Chaucer'* maybe read with great pleasure and advantage by per- 
sons arrived at maturity. It is a masterly delineation of character, 
and presents faithful and highly interesting views of society and 
manners, at one of the most interesting periods of English 
history.]- 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

Born 1471. — Died about 1530. 
From lOth Edward IF., to 2\st Henry VIII. 

TO repress the aspirings of inordinate ambition, to si- 
lemce the murmurs of neglected merit, and to pourtray 
the instability of fortune and the vicissitudes of human 
life in their most striking colours, it is only necessary to 
attend to the proud career and checkered fate of the 
subject of th^ present article. 

Thomas Wolsey, who rose to be archbishop of York, 
chancellor of England, cardinal, and papal legate, w^as 
the son of a butcher at Ipswich. It is probable, how- 
ever, that his parents possessed some property, and 
more discernment : for, perceiving the bent of his dispo- 
sition to literature, they put him early to the grammar- 
school of that town ; and such was the maturity of his 
talents, that he had taken the degree of bachelor of arts 
at Magdalen college, Oxford, before he reached his fif- 
teenth year, from which circumstance he obtained the 
appellation of " the boy bachelor." Soon afterwards 
he was admitted to a fellowship in the same college, 
and in due time nominated to the superintendance of 
the school belonging to that society* 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 43 

This situation, which is too frequently the grave of 
genius and the bar to promotion, proved to Wolsey the 
original source of his future exaltation. At tills semi- 
narv vv^ere three sons of the marquis of Dorset ; and it 
is reasonable to suppose that a man of Wolsey's ambi« 
tious character, was not inattentive to the advantages 
which he might derive from such pupils. He assi- 
duously attended to their education : and ingratiated 
himself so far with both parent and sons, that he ob- 
tained an invitation to the country-seat of the marquis, 
during a vacation ; where, by his insinuating manners, 
his knowledge, and his address^ he paved his way to more 
substantial marks of favour. By this nobleman he was 
presented, in his twenty-niath year, to the rectory of 
Lymington in Somersetshire, his first ecclesiasticai pre- 
ferment; and immediately entered on his new func* 
tion as a parish-priest. 

Here, it is said, the gaiety of his disposition sometimes 
fcd him into excesses, and in consequence he was once 
sentenced to the stocks. This disgusted him with the. 
country; and the justice who had ordered a punish- 
ment so disgraceful to a clergyman, had afterwards 
abundant reason to repent of his severity. 

Wolsey's patron dying soon after, he quitted his resi- 
dence at Lymington, and projected new means of push- 
ing his fortune. In a short time afterwards he was pro- 
moted to be a chaplain to Dr. Dean, archbishop of Can- 
terbury ; which however served rather to en^rge his 
views, than conduce to his immediate advancement. It 
appears, indeed, that the archbishop was extremely 
partial to him, ar^d assisted to make him better 
known ; but he did not live long enough to reward 
Wolsey*s assiduities, and the latter was again without 
a patron. 

Having now been Introduced to the great, he felt his 
native propensities roused, and ambition stimulated him 
to be a courtier. An observation frequently made by 



44 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

him was, " that If he could but set one foot m the court, 
he would soon introduce his whole body." A man of 
abilities and an aspiring temper, who directs the whole 
vigour of his mind to one point, will seldom be finally 
unsuccessful. Wolsey next offered his* services to sir 
John Nephant, treasurer of Calais, a gentlerrian in high 
favour with Henry the Seventh ; and his application 
was well received. Sir John not only made him his 
chaplain, but being debilitated by age and infirmities, 
and finding V/olsey's capacity for business, he commit- 
ted to him the principal direction of his oiice 5 and in 
the sequel recommended him in such strong terms of 
approbatioil to the king, that his majesty put him on the 
list of royal chaplains. 

Having now arrived in the haven of his v^ashes, the 
court, he assiduously cultivated the acquamtance of the- 
prevailing favourites. Fox bishop of Winchester, and 
sir Thomas Lovel, by whom he was zealously patro- 
nized ; and was soon after recommended to the king as 
a person excellently qualified to conduct an important 
negotiation with the em*;eror Maximilian, who then re- 
sided at Bruges. 

o 

He managed this business with such address, and 
brought it so expeditiously to a successful conclusion, 
ihat the king was astonished at his political sagacity and 
prompt decision. The foundation of his fame and fu- 
ture promotion was now eifectually laid ; and, as a mark 
of the esteem in which he was held at court, soon after 
Ills return from this embassy he was mad^ dean of Lin- 
coln. 

The death of the king happened in the following 
year : but Wolsey, who had courted the rising sun, lost 
no ground by the accession of Henry the Eightli ; on 
^the contrary, he found himself more distinguished than 
before. In 151 Q he was appointed a privy counsellor, 
canon of Windsor, and registrar of the order of the gar- 
ter ; besides receiving other tokens of the royal favour^ 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 43 

Being thus firmly seated, he, with the usual ingratitude 
of a courtier, neglected those worthy and deserving 
friends who had contributed to his advancement, and in 
a manner concentrated in himself all the beams of royal 
beneficence. 

The young king, who was attached to pleasure w^ith 
the utmost ardour, averse cO application, yet impatient 
of control, was charmed with a servant who could admi- 
nister to his gratifications, free him from the fatigue .of 
public business, and yet submit to his caprices without. 
a murmur. A war with France being resolved oh, 
Wolsey was intrusted witlithe careof providing the sup* 
plies for the army ; and his zeal and activity in this new 
commission were as conspicuous as his former services 
had been. 

Henry landed in France, accompanied by Wolsey ; 
and on the capture of Toumay, the favourite was made 
bishop of that city. , The campaign w^as successful, and 
even glorious : but a treaty being soon concluded at 
Lisle, the English returned ; and in the subsequent year 
Wolsey was promoted, first to the see of Lincoln, and 
then to the archbishopric of York. 

The stream of royal favour had flowed with such a 
full tide on Wolsey/, that the pope thought it politic to 
c-onciiiate the favour of a man whose interest and income 
were now im^mense ; and to complete his exaltation, in 
1515 his holiness invested him with the rank of a car- 
dinal. 

The pride and ostentation of Wolsey on the acquisi- 
tion of this new dignity, deserved ridicule rathcT than 
respect. Even in those days, w^hen the people were in- 
finitely more captivated by shew than at present, they 
€-ouid not refrain from making merry at the cardinal's 
expence ; but V/areham, archbishop of Canterbury and 
chancellor, felt the conflict for pre-eminence w^th this 
upstart so humilic«ing, that he resigned the seals, and 
left him w^ithout a rival in power and dignity. 



46 CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

Wols^y was immediately appointed his successor, and 
this new promotron increased his former parade. Yet 
it must be acknowledged, that in this new office he dis- 
played a penetratHig judgment, and a deep and en- 
larged acquaintance with law and equity. 

Cardinal Campeggio, the pope's legate, having abaut 
this time rendered himself unacceptable to Henry the 
Eighth, Wolsey had this high rank bestowed on him by 
the holy see. He had now gained all that he could 
aspire to. He became iniperious and insolent in the 
highest degree ; yet Wareham alone had the honest 
courage to make his ill-conduct the subject of remon- 
strance to the king. Henry on that occasion reprimand- 
ed him far the first time, and Wolsey became more 
cautious than before- 

This towering prelate, however, had for some time 
entertained views even on the papal chair; which, 
amidst all his splendid follies, seems to have been upper- 
iWGst in his mind. He eng5.ged foreign influence in his 
behalf, and #ven sacrificed the interest of his country 
to his own private schemes of aggrandizement. On 
the death of pope Leo the Tenth, he thought himself 
sure of being chosen his successor ; but Wolsey was of 
a character rather to be feared than loved, and he lost 
his election. Though disappointed and deceived, he 
did not relinquish his design ; and when another va- 
cancy happened on the death of Adrian the Sixth, he 
again made his pretensions, and again failed. 

He still, however, continued to direct the councils of 
his sovt^reign ; and to lord it over his equals, and even 
his superiors. He treated the most powerful of the no- 
bility with arrogance and contempt 5 and Stafford duke 
of Buckingham, the only courtier who ventured to op- 
pose him, fell a victim to his intrigues. This gave occa- 
sion to an excellent saying of the emperor Charles the 
Fifths " that the butcher's dog" (alluding to Wolsey 's 
origin) '^ had worried the fairest hart in England.'^ 



Cardinal wolsey. 47 

Wokey, who had long ceased to be popular, was now 
generally execrated : but he continued to enjoy the un- 
diminished favour of his sovereign 3 and those whom 
he coukl not concihate by his bounty, he awed by his 
terrors. His establishment was princely ; and his mu- 
Rificence, or rather his ostentation, equalled it. Yet 
Wolsey must not be denied the praise to which his con- 
duct, in some respects, has given him a just claim. 
His endowments at Oxford, and at Ipswich the place 
of his nativity, evince an ardent love of literature as well 
as of fame ; and prove that he did not accumulate 
wealth for himsqlf alone, but \%ith a view to the benefit 
of all posterity. 

Having now seen this extraordinary character at the 
height of his glory, we must attend him in his rapid 
decline. 

The king had long conceived an ardent aiFection for 
a young lady of the court, daughter to sir Thomas Bo- 
leyn ; and finding that her virtue was impregnable, he 
was determined, even by a separation from his present 
queen, to remove every obstacle which stood in his way 
to an union with her on honourable terms. Wolsey, as 
long as he considered this in the light of a mere intrigue^ 
bowed to the new favourite with the most supple ad*- 
dress : but when he found that his master intended to 
violate every tie to gratify his passion, he zealously dis- 
suaded him from his object ; and thus Incurred the re- 
sentment of his sovereign, who could not brook control^ 
and of the lady, who aspired to be a queen. The cour- 
tiers saw the danger and the delicacy of his situation, 
and made Anne Boleyn the instrument of their ven- 
geance and her own. 

Against such a combination, co-operating with the 
impetuous desires of Henry, it was impossible for Wol- 
sey to stand. Yet the king did not easily withdraw his 
confidence from a man who had long been his most ob- 
c 5 



48 CARDINAL WOLSEV. 

sequious drudge, at the same time that he was the ty- 
rant of his subjects ; and he continued to be employed 
in embassies to foreign courts, and to enjoy the apparent 
affection of his master. But these commissions abroad 
were rather given him to remove him from the royal 
presence, than with any view of employing his talents in 
the service of his country ; and indeed from the time of 
his aspiring to the papacy, it is doubtful whether a re- 
gard to private interest did not predominate in his mind 
ever a sense of public duty. 

At length the business of the king's divorce from 
queen Catherine was brought forward : and the delays 
and impediments which occurred in its progress were m 
a great measure ascribed to Wolsey ; who had always 
dissuaded the king from such a step, and therefore was 
the more suspected of protracting the proceedings of 
the legantine court which had been established to de- 
cide on tlje validity of Henry's marriage*. Anne Bo- 
leyn seconded the suspicions of the king, and the rage 
of the cardinal's enemies ; and the seals were taken from 
him, though in a manner that shev/ed some compunc- 
tion on the part of Henry. But Wolsey, sensible that 
his disgrace was now inevitable, resolved to act with po- 
licy and caution in this critical situation. He ordered 
an inventory to be taken of his effectis, his superb plate, 
and furniture, and left them all for the king ; reason- 



■* Queen Catherine had been v»^ife to Henry *s elder brother 
prince Arthur, who died while prince of Wales; and on that 
event, in compliance with the wish of his father (Henry the Se- 
venth), Henry, who succeeded to the dignity of prince of Wales, 
Tnarried her. It was on the pretence of scruples having arisen 
ki his conscience respecting the propr?cty of such a marriage, 
that he now founded his application for a divorce; and the 
pope appointed Wolsey, and another cardinal whom he sent to 
England on purpose, to be a court for determining on this ques- 
tion. 



CARDINAL WOLSEY. 49 

ably concluding, that to divest himself of his wealth was 
tlie most likely method to check the spirit of persecu- 
tion. 

He judged right : but the return of his influence was 
too much dreaded to render any sacrifices, short of his 
life, sufficient to satisfy his foes. He was impeached in 
parliament, chiefly rdiative to the exercise of his legan- 
tine functions, and the scandalous irregularities of his 
life ; but by the industry and address of his gratefal ser- 
vant Thomas Cromwell, who now appeared on the 
horizon of power, this charge cam^ to notliing. 

Meanwhile the cardinal continued at Esher, in Surry, 
in great obscurity and neglect, though he practised the 
most abject servility to regain the royal favour. The . 
king Indeed, by occasional favourable messages, seemed 
desirous of smoothing the way to his final ruin : but 
Wolsey constantly found himself deceived ; and every 
step the king took, still farther removed him from any 
hopes of seeing better days. 

Worn out with disappointment ; his colleges being 
sequestered and dissolved, though he earnestly besought 
the king to spare them ; even his very tamb being seized, 
which he begged in the most feeling terms as a home 
he was soon likely to want ; Wolsey at length was 
obliged to retire to his diocese of York : where his mu- 
nificence soon rendered him respected, and where he 
might have closed his days in peace and honour. But 
even here the implacable resentment of his enemies pur- 
sued him ; and he was soon arrested by the earl of Nor-' 
thumberland for HTgh-tr.-^ason, and committed to the 
custody of thp lieutpnant of the Tov/er, who had orders 
to bring him to London. 

The people whom his bounty had relieved, flocked 
round him with lamentations, and followed him for se- 
veral miles; till he requested them to , depart and be 
patient, as he feared not his enemies, but entirely sub- 



(, 

50 CARDINAL WCLSEY. 

mitted to the will of heaven. But the shock now given 
to a mind already broken by calamit}^, v/as too violent- 
to be borne. When he had reached Shefneld-park, the 
seat of the earl of Shrewsbury, he was taken ill ; and 
suspicions were even entertained that he had swallowed 
poison, administered either by himself or others. 
There seems, however, to be no good reason for the 
former supposition, nor any proofs of the latter. His 
illness proved mortal. By a slow progress and short 
journeys, he reached Leicester- abbey, where he was re- 
ceived with all possible reverence and respect ; but his 
only observation was^ " Father abbot,- I am come to 
lay my bones among you." Three days after, he died ; 
with the composure of a christian and the fortitude of 
a man, but reflvicting on himself for his blind devotion 
to his prince* ^^ Had I served God,/^ said he, a short 
time before his death, " as diligently as I have served 
the king, he would not have forsaken me in my gray 
hairs ; but this is the just reward I must receive for my 
pains and study, in not regarding my service to God, 
but only to my prince.^^ 

He died on the twenty-ninth of November, 1530, and 
Tiext day was buried in the middle of one of the abbey- 
chapels. Such was the end of cardinal Wolsey, who 
had a very considerable weight in the scale of Euro- 
pean politics during a series of years ; and who eer- 
l;ai:dy possessed eminent abilities as a statesman ; but, 
on the whole, may be characterized rather as a great 
than a good man. 

In person, Wolsey was tall and comely, and very 
giaceful in his air and manner. Owing to a blemish in 
f)ne of his eyes, he always took care to be painted in 
profile ; as may be seen in his remaining pictures. 

He who is arrogant in prosperity, is commonly abject 
and mean in adversity; and this maxim is illustrated 
by the Conduct of Wolsey, His vices and weaknesses 



SIR THOMAS MORE, 51 

\^'ere indeed not few, but they were balanced by some 
splendid public virtues. He was the patron of genius 
and of learning, and a liberal friend to the poor. 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 

Born 1480.— Beheaded 1535. 
FrQ7n \^th EdwardlF., to 2&h Henry VIIL 

AS long as incorruptible integrity, genuine principle, 
and steady resolution, accompanied by the mildest so- 
cial virtues, have a title to esteem, the name of sir 
Thomas More will be held in veneration. 

This great man was born in Milk-street, London. 
He was the son of sir John More, one of the judges of 
the court of king's-bench ; a man whose virtues and 
abilities seem in the present instance to have been en- 
tailed witli large accessions on his oiFspring. 

Of the early presages which this young man gave of 
intellectual energy, there are some indisputable memo- 
rials, intermixed with fabulous legends. Being taken 
into the family of cardinal Morton, the primate and 
chancellor, as was usual for youths of talents or di- 
stinction in those days, liis grace had discernment to see 
the bitd of talents in him ; and would often say to his 
company, " This boy who now waits ar my table, 
V/hoever lives to see it, will prove a wonderful man.^' 

Being duly initiated in classical learning, he was re- 
i5cioved to Canterbury-college, now part of Christ- 
church, Oxford ; wiiere he remained two years, and 
distinguished himself by his knowledge in languages, 
and his progress in the sciences. 

On quitting the university, he entered of New-inn, 
London, where he applied to the study of the lav/ : 
and, being called to the bar, was beginning to acquire 



52 SIR THOMAS MORE. 

a reputation proportionate to his talents; when, con- 
ceiving a sudden dislike to his profession, he retired to 
the charter-house, and for four years secluded himself 
from the w:;rld, engaged in the constant practice of 
devotion, or the prosecution of his studies. 

The greatest minds are not exempt from infirmity : 
they have their brilliancies and their obscurations. Su- 
perstition gained the ascendant on this illustrious cha- 
racter very early in life : Jie practised some monastic 
severities on himself before he was twenty years of age, 
and at one time had a violent inclination to become a 
Franciscan ; but his filial piety made him at last yield 
to the predilection of his father in favour of the law. 

Being naturally of a gay and volatile temper, it is 
probable that the austerities he voluntarily submitted 
to were intended to counteract the warmth of his pas- 
sions. His friends, zealous to promote his happiness 
and his credit, persuaded him to marry. Accordingly, 
v/hiie on a visit to a gentleman who had three daugh- 
ters, he was captivated w4th the charms of the second ; 
but when pressed to declare his choice, he named the 
eldest, because he thought it would hurt her feelings to 
be overlooked. With this lady he lived happily for 
about seven years, and resumed his practice at the bar 
\yith great reputation and success ; which latter cir- 
cumstance in some measure originated from the follow- 
ing mcident : 

Scarcely had he completed his twenty-first year, when 
he v/as- returned to serve in parliament. In this great 
theatre he soon had an opportunity of displaying his abi- 
lities and his patriotli^vn, by opposing a subsidy demand- 
ed by the king (Henry the Seventh) with such force of 
arp-ument and effect, that it was actually rejected. 
One of the privy-council, who was present, imjnediately 
reported to the king, *' that a beardless boy had frus- 
trated all his schemes." Henry was determined to be 



SIR THOMAS MORE* 5S 

revenged : but as the son Had notliing to lose, and had 
not exceeded the line of his duty, he visited his offence 
on the guiltless father; who, on some frivolous charge, 
was committed to the Tower, and fined a hundred 
pounds before he could recover his liberty. This mean 
instance of vindictive malice, which was intended to 
depress young More, only made him an object of im- 
portance in the eyes of the nation ; and his own con- 
duct was such, that his enemies neither found means to 
ensnare him, nor had his friends reason to be ashamed 
of their cordial patronage. 

After his return to the bar, there was scarcely a cause 
of Importance in which he was not solicited to be en- 
gaged ; and as he never would defend a bad one, his 
credit rose the more by the purity of the principle on 
which It was founded. His first preferment, however, 
was that of being made judge of the sheriff's court in 
London ; but having acquitted himself with distin- 
guished reputation and abilities on various public occa- 
sions, Wolsey was commissioned by Henry the Eighth, 
to engage his services. More, with that diiiidence 
•which is peculiar to merit, and that love of indepen- 
dance which is natural to the virtuous, declined the 
proffered honour f but being importunately urged, he 
thought it his duty to submit to his sovereign's plea- 
sure, and was appointed master of the requests. A 
few weeks after, he was knighted, sworn one of the 
privy-council, and admitted to the greatest personal 
familiarity with the king ; who was so much charmed 
with his abilities, learning, \^it, and convivial talents, 
that he not only consulted him on affairs of state and 
questicns of science, but frequently invited him to be 
of his private parties, in order to enjoy his rich flow of 
humour. 

Sir Thomas v/as passionately attached to domestic 
endearments ; and when he found that his facetious 
disposition was one reason of his being called on to de- 



54 SIR THOMAS MORE. 

vote so much time to com't-attendance, he bf^gan to as* 
sume a graver deportment, and to dissemble his natural 
propensity for merriment. By this innocent artifice he 
recovered a greater share of liberty, and was less fre- 
quently drawn from the home he loved. The king", how- 
ever, did not abate in his regard for his faithful servant. 
On the death of the treasurer of the exchequer in 1520, 
sir Thomas More was appointed, without solicitation, 
to that office ; and three years afterwards he was chosen 
speaker of the house of commons. In this last capa- 
city he evinced his usual intrepidity and patriotism, in 
frustrating a motion for an oppressive subsidy, pro- 
moted by cardinal VT'olsey. 

Soon after he was appointed treasurer of the exche- 
quer, he settled at Chelsea: and having lost his first 
wife, married a second, named Middleton ; who, ac- 
cording to Erasmus, was a widow, cid, ill-tempered, 
and avaricious ; yet was beloved with youthful fondness 
by her husband. 

His next promotion was to the chancellorship of the 
duchy of Lancaster. Notwithstanding the known in- 
dependance of his mind, he v/as in such high favour at 
€ourt, that the king frequently visited him at Chelsea 
in the most unceremonious manner. After walking 
with him one day in the garden for nearly an hour, with 
his arm familiarly thrown round sir Thomas's neck, one 
of his sons-in-law, who sav/ the intimacy v/ith which he 
was treated, was remarking' on the felicity of being so 
distinguished by his sovereign. Sir Thomas, who vv^a?s 
no stranger to the uL^ural baseness of Henry's heart, 
thus expressed himself: " I thank the Lord, I find his 
grace to be a very good master indeed, and beheve he 
-is as partial to m.e as to any subject v/ithin his realm : 
but yet I have no cause to presume on his f^ivour ; for 
if my head could v/m him but a castle in France, it 
would not long remain on my shoulders." 

Having discharged two embassies on the continent 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 55 

much to the satisfaction of the king, who always treated 
him with more tenderness and good humour than any 
of his other favourites, on the disgrace of Wolsey, in 
1529 he was entrusted with the great seal, as a reward 
for his eminent services. 

It is generally beheved that the king had previously 
sounded sir Thomas on the subject of his m.editated di« 
vorce from queen Catherine; but thvU finding him 
averse to lend the sanction of his respectable name 
to such a proceeding, he thought to ensure his com-' 
pliance by loading him with honours. In regard to 
mankind in general, Henry's judgment in this case wa*^ 
politically right ; but sir Thomas More was not so 
flexible as to bend for interest, or sacrifice his conscience 
for gratitude. 

He saw the danger and delicacy of his situation from 
the first ; but having entered on this high office, he 
would not shrink frOm the duties annexed to it. The 
meanest claimant found ready access to the new chan~ 
eellor: no private affection could bias his judgment, or 
influence his decrees ; no opportunity was given for in- 
- trigue or interested solicitation : and after he had pre- 
sided in the court of chancery for two years, such was 
bis application to business, that one day calling for the 
next cause, he was told there was not another then de- 
pending — a circumstance which he immediately ordered 
to be set down on record, and it will certainly be al- 
lowed to be unexampled. 

Sir Thomas, though no friend to the papal usurpa- 
tions in England, v/as far from wishing for a total rup- 
ture with the holy see : and foreseeing that the measures: 
vrhich Henry v/as pursuing must inevitably involve him 
with one or the other, he anxiously pressed to have his 
resignation of the seals accepted ^ which at last v.':as 
granted, though not without great reluctance on the 
part of Henry, and the warmest professions of a perma- 



S6 Sik THOMAS MORE. 

nent regard. Thus^ after he had filled this high office 
almost three years, with exemplary application, true 
magnanimity, and unsullied integrity, he resigned his 
dignity, and retired to Chelsea : so little richer from the 
important stations he had held for nearly twenty years, 
that his whole annual income did not exceed a hundred 
pounds ; and after the payment of his debts,. it appears 
that he had .not altogether above that sum in money, 
exclusive of his gold chain of office and a few rings^ 
Such disinterestedness in a courtier is but seldom imi« 
tated, and deserves to be rem.embered. 

The day after his resignation, he attended his wife 
and family to the church ; and when service was finished , 
instead of going out first as had been usual, he went 
to the door of his lady's pew (as it was usual for his 
servant to do before), and with a low bow said, " Ma- 
dam, my lord is gone." This was the first intimation 
he gave her that he was no longer chancellor. She at 
first thought him in jest; but when she found it other- 
wise, she broke out into reproaches mid lamentations- at 
his want of attention to his interest. Sir Thomas, how- 
eve};', turned the conversation to another subject, and 
seemed not to heed this storm. 

}iis whole study now was, to lessen his establishment 
in proportion to his diminished resources, and to pro- 
vide for his family and dependants in such a manner as 
might shew that he was more solicitous about them 
than himself. He gave himself up wholly to domestic, 
privacy and retirement ; and having every4 thing to fear 
from the inconstant and cruel temper of the king, to 
whom he had been a devoted servant, but could not be 
a slave, he prepared his mind by study and reflection to 
meet with fortitude the worst that could befal him. 

Though now reduced to a private station, and even 
to indigence, so high v/as his reputation, and such cre- 
dit was attached to his legal opinions, that repeated at» 




CiaTicer 




Wolsc 





Sir Thomas More 



L ord Cromwell 




^\t-- 







Hai^e^ Cnclitoxi 



SIR THOMAS MORE. 57 

tempts were made to obtain his approbation of the king's 
marriage with Anne Boleyn. When every contrivance^ 
however, that policy could devise or power command, 
proved ineffectual to warp his principles, and bring him 
over to measures which he condemned, the king, being 
highly exasperated, was determined to make him feel his 
utmost vengeance ; and accordingly he was attainted, 
with several otliers, of misprision of treason, for encou- 
raging Elizabeth Barton, commonly called the Maid of 
Kent, in her traitorous designs : yet at last, it appeared 
upon record, that he had pronounced her the most 
false dissembling hypocrite he had ever known ; and 
his name was obliged to be struck cut of the bilL But 
malice entrenched behind powder is not easily baiHed: 
other imiputations, equally groundless, were brought 
against him in quick succession ; from all of which his 
innocence protected him, and enabled him to stand the 
severest scrutiny. 

At last, however, his enemies prevailed : for on his 
refusing to take the oath enjoined by the act of supre- 
macy, he was committed to tho^-Tower ; where having 
lain fifteen months, he was brought to trial on a charge 
of high-treason in denying that the king v/as the su- 
preme head of the church. The same equanimity and 
cheerfulness which he had evinced through life, attend- 
ed him in this awful scene. The only evidence against 
him was Rich, the solicitor-general, whose credit he iiv 
validated in tlie most striking manner ; but as it v/as 
predetermuned that he should either recant or be sacri- 
ficed, he resolutely maintained his principles, and the 
fatal sentence was passed upon him to suffer as a trai- 
,-tor. 

In the interval between his condem.nation and execu- 
tion (v/hlch latter the king softened to simple behead- 
ing), he employed his time in taking kave of his daugh- 
ters, and preparing himself for eternity. His humour 



58 SIR THOMAS MORE. 

and wit. however, were displayed to the last : even en 
the scaffold his serenity of mind shone in its fullest lus- 
tre ; and he seemed more like a man undressing to go 
to bed, than like one on the brink of the grave. At one 
blow his head was severed from his body. The latter 
was deposited Jin the chancel of the church of Chelsea, 
where a monument was erected to his memory : his 
head, after being fourteen days exposed on London- 
bridge, was obtained by his daughter ; and placed in a 
vault belonging to the Roper family, in St. Dunstan's 
cliurch at Canterbury. 

It has been observed of this illustrious character, that 
the ignorant and the proud, how^ever exalted, were those 
whom he respected the least ; but he was the patron of 
every man ©f science and merit, and kept up a corre- 
spo»dence with all the learned in Europe. As a judge, 
he was most upright ; as a man, truly amiable, facetious 
and pleasing ; but on xhe subject of religion he was weak 
and credulous in a high degree. Tinctured with super- 
stition, and attached to the Romish church with inflex- 
ible adherence, he suffered his good-sense to be obscured 
by the glosses of error and the sophisms of theolo- 
gists, and fell a martyr perhaps to bigotry rather than' 
to sound reason. Yet none can help respecting the 
errors which arise from principle : 

For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight ; 
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. ' 

Except by his Utopia, sir Thomas More Is now little 
known as an author : his polemic works have been car- 
ried down the stream of oblivion ; for the best produc- 
tions of this nature are not likely to earn the wreath o£ 
immortality. 



( 59 ) 
THOMAS CROMWELL, 

EARL OF ESSEX. 

Born 149S.— -Beheaded i5i0. 

From ISih Henry VII., to 31^/ Henry Fill. 

THE rise of this earl of Essex was as sudden as that 
of his patron cardinal Wolsey ; and, in several respects, 
more extraordinary. That learning should ekvate a 
man above his original station is consistent with the 
common order of human events ; but that a man \\nth- 
eut either birtli, education, or connections, should be 
able to pierce the cloud of obscurity, and to soar* into 
the higher regions of life, is a ph<?nomenon which de- 
serves to be considered and accounted for. 

This champion of the reformation w^as the son of a 
blac?:smith, at Putney in Surry, where he received all 
his slender instruction ; w^hich did not exceed the know^- 
ledge of reading and writing, with such a smattering 
of Latin as qualified him to understand his belief afid 
Lord's-prayer. 

Born in such a humble sphere of life, it cannot be sup- 
posed that Cromw^ell Ci^uld owe much Lo his parents 
beyond a vigorous and healthful constitution. How- 
ever, being possessed ci a strong natural genius, and 
considering travelling as the only means in his power 
for improving his understanding and enlarging his ca- 
pacity, as he advanced tow-ard manhood he determined 
to visit th-e continent ; and, accorxling to some, he v/as 
£rst retained as clerk or secretary m the English fac- 
tory at Antw^erp. 

This situation being ill suited to his aspiring genius, 

he soon found an opportunity of changing it for one 

more congenial to his views. Two messengers from 

the guild of the Virgin Mary in the church of St. Bo- 

8 




60 THOMAS CROMWELL. 

tolph at Boston, being desirous to have their former In 
beral grants and indulgences confirmed by the reigning 
pope, Julius the Second, happened to take Antwerp in 
their way : where tliey fell into company with Crom- 
well ; and, seeing his talents for negotiation superior to 
their own, readily prevailed on him to accompany them 
to Roane. On arriving at that ancient metropolis of the 
world, his first care was to discover the weak side of 
the pope's character : and, finding him a great epicure, 
he caused some curious jellies to be made after the Eng- 
lish fashion, and presented to his holiness ; wlio was so 
highly gratified with these delicacies, that he imme- 
diately granted the request of the commissioners. 

After this transaction, an interval of doubt and un- 
certainty occurs in his life. The chain of events is- 
much interrupted : and it is only known that he served 
under the famous duke of Bourbon, and was at the sack- 
ing of Rorfie, tin effecting his escape from Bologna, . 
where he was in danger of being betrayed w^hen on a 
secret mission ; a piece of service for which he was pro- 
bably remembered and rewarded at a subsequent pe- 
riod. 

On the defeat of the French army at Castiglione, 
Cromwell was reduced to the greatest distress ; in 
which condition he arrived at the city of Florence. 
Here he accidentally attracted the notice of Frescobald, 
. a merchant of eminence ; who, pitying his forlorn* situ- 
ation, put him on board a proper ship, and gave him 
sixteen golden ducats to defray his expences to his own 
country. It Is a pleasure to record an instance of a 
courtier's gratitude in return : this merchant being af- 
terwards reduced tx) poverty, and visiting Engknd to 
recover some debts, was recognized by Cromwell in his 
prosperity, and most munificently rewarded. 

Thus it appears that the only benefit which our ad- 
venturer derived from foreign travels, -was a more ex- 



THOMAS CROMWELL, 61 

tensive knowledge of mankind : besides an acquaintance 
with the German, French, and Italian languages ; 
which he spoke fluently, and wrote correctly. With 
such natural and acquired abilities, however, he soon re- 
commended Inmself to Wolsey, then In the zenitli of 
his power ; and in a short time was admitted to a con- 
siderable share of intimacy with that cardinal, and fre- 
quently employed by him in delicate and important af- 
fairs. On the disgrace of his patron, Cromv/ell behaved 
w4th a fidelity and gratitude which mmst endear his 
memory to every virtuous mind. He strenuously de- 
fended him from the charge of treason ; he omitted no 
attentions of affection and respect to the prostrate great- 
ness by which he him^self had risen ; and the king, v/ho 
saw his zeal and abilities, prudently took him into his 
own service, and promoted his interest and his fame. 

The dispute between Henry and the pope having 
now reached its height, Cromwell was chosen to ma- 
nage it on the part of his sovereign. In his religious 
sentiments he was publicly known to favour the Refor- 
mation ; and having already been instrumental in the 
demoli don of seme of the convents, the clergy dreaded 
^his accession to power, and calumniated him grossly. 
Their inveterate dislike to him, ho^vever, proved fatal 
only to themselves. Cromwell, instead of attempt in e 
to soothe them by compliance, irritated and injured them 
still mere, by disclosing an important secret respecting 
their blind devotion to Rome. He had discovered at 
the papal court, that after the English clergy had taken 
the oath of allegiance to their sovereign, the pope dis- 
pensed with that part of it which militated against his 
own usurped rights ; so that the royal authority was 
abused, and the clergy w^ere subject to the charge of au ■ 
offence little short of treason. 

Henry heard this with indignation ; till the artRi* 
Cromwell, favouring his passion for povrer and for 



B2 THOMAS CROMWELL. 

money, pointed out the means of eiFectually humbling 
the clergy, and of confiscating their property. In a 
transport of joy he now embraced the new favourite j 
and, taking tlie royal signet from his finger, sent him to 
the convocation then sitting, to declare the pains and 
penalties which they had incurred. The bishops were 
-at first astonished at the accusation, and attempted to 
deny the fact ; but Cromwell producing a copy of the 
oath which they had taken to the pope at their conse- 
cration, they were awed into silence ; and offered eagerly 
to compound with his majesty by a free gift of 118,84C 
pounds. 

The fortune of Cromwell was insured by this exploit 
and he rapidly rose to the summit of power. He wa: 
successively made a privy counsellor, and master of th( 
jewel-effice ; clerk of the hanaper, and chancellor o; 
the exchequer ; principal secretary of state, and maste: 
of the rolls ; keeper of the priyy seal, and lord Crom 
well : and, to crown the whole, he was constitutes 
vicar-general, and vicegerent over all the spirituality 
under the king, who had now assumed the title of " su 
preme head of the church." 

So many honours accumulated by a person of pie 
beian origin, could not escape envy. In his quality o 
vicar-general also he was exposed to obloquy.^The tota 
suppression of the monasteries was a bold and nove 
step; and as the rupture v>-ith the court of Rome Vv'a 
now complete, while the greater part of the nation stil 
professed popery, the danger of the man who ha( 
placed himself In the foremost ranks of reformation, ani 
been accessory to that Important revolution, Is obviouj 
Yet Cromwell Vv^as not intimidated by the diificultie 
which surrounded him. His good sense extricated hin 
from some impending dangers, and his sagacity remove^ 
others that were evidently approaching. With such 
• capricious and fickle master, however, it was impossibl 



EARL OF ESSEX^ 65 

to be safe. Reason may. maintain its ground against 
reason ; but, where passion and caprice alone bear swa}^, 
there is nc tenable possession of the mind. The Spoils 
of the monasteries gratified Henry's rapacity ; and the 
inferior perquisites which he was continually distri- 
buting among his flatterers, fixed their adherence to a 
minister who had provided so much to their satisfaction : 
but the number whom this conduct alienated was not 
small ; and both the religion and morals of the king 
were so completely under the domination of his lust, 
that the tenets of one day were deemed heretical on 
the next. 

Thus circumstanced, Cromvrell felt the necessity of 
caution in the exercise of his religious powers* He be- 
gan by publishing a few articles of faith essentially 
different from the Homish ; but not to shock the vul- 
gar prejudices too strongly at once, he left some points 
doubtful, and otliers he did not touch. 

His next care, and in this his wisdom and piety were 
equally conspicuous, was to publish a translation of 
the Scriptures ; a copy of which was directed to be 
placed in every church, for the inspection of all rank^ 
of people. The Lord's prayer, die belief, and the ten 
commandments, Vv^ere likewise ordered to be taught in 
the English tongue. These jtidicions measures me- 
naced the speedy extirpation of the P^omlsh religion, 
and its blind adherents were consequently iiicensed to 
madness. Insurrections broke out in diiterent parts 
of the kingdom, the rebels boldly demanding that 
Cromwell should be brought to punishment as a 
subverter of the laws and religion of the land ; but the 
disturbances were speedily quelled, and Henry only an- 
swered the complaints of the insurgents by bestowing 
fresh, honours on his minister, who was now created 
earl of Essex. 

The tide of prosperity had hitherto flowed without 
interruption ; but the earl, while studious to take pre. 

D 



■ ■.^rMiM^^ 



64 EARL 0¥ ESSEX. 

cautions for preventing a reverse of fortune, adopted a 
measure which precipitated his fall. 

Henry, having lost his queen Jane Seymour (mother 
of Edward the Sixth), for whom he seems to have en- 
tertained a sincere affection, tiirned his thoughts to- 
wards a German alliance. Essex warmly seconded 
his master's views ; and brought about a iiiarriage be- 
tween him and Anne of Cleves,, who was a protestant ; 
in hopes thereby to strengthen his interest against the 
popish faction, which continually menaced him. So 
imcertain,. however, is the<i&sue of human events, that. 
this very circumstance proved his ruin. Anne was 
personally disagreeable to Henry, who had a whimsi- 
cal and vitiated taste : he ceased to live with her ; and 
fixed his roving aflfections on Catherine Howard, niece 
to the duke of Norfolk. The papists, seeing this, re- 
xloubled tlieir clamours against Essex ; and some of the 
bishops promised to procure a divorce from the princess 
of Cleves, on condition of his being previously renioved. 
Henry, whom no tie of honour or gratitude could bind 
w4ien his passions w^ere concerned, gave up his favour- 
ite ; who was arrested by the duke of Norfolk at the 
rouncil-board, and immediately conveyed to the Tower. 
Seven days after, he was accused in the house of lords, 
of heresy and treason ; but the charges were either so 
frivolous, or so false, that he was denied an opportu- 
nity of iriaicing his defence, and the bill of attainder 
passed botli houses almost by acclamation. 

Essex, during his confinement, cleared himself of 
jevery accusation in some very pathetic letters which he 
addressed to the king ; but the die was cast, and com- 
punction seldom touched the heart of that tyrant. 
The friends of the fallen minister, as is too common, 
immediately deserted him; and his enemies trium.phed 
over him with inhuman insolence. ' Cranmer, the pri- 
mate, alone maintained his cause, though with ineffec- 
hia.l zeal j and in the fidelity of this great and good 



BISHOP LATIMER. 65 

man lie nict .with a recompence for his own attachment 
to Wolsey. 

Essex was brought to the block on the 28th of July, 
1540, in the forty-second year^ of his age. That he 
might not injure his son, he avoided all reproaches 
against his enemies. He prayed fervently for the king, 
and the welfare of his country ; and then gave the 
signal to the executioner ; who, either unskilful or 
fimid, mangled the unfortunate victim in the most 
shocking manner. 

Essex was a sound politician, a good man, and 
warmly attached to the public welfare ; but he com- 
mitted many errors in his ministerial capacity. In his 
zeal for the new religion, he had introduced the unjus- 
tifiable mode of attainder, in cases of treason and he- 
resy ; and his enemies availed themselves of his owi^ 
law, to condemn him unconvicted and unheard. 

In his person he was comely ; in manners, courteciti;. 
He was exempt from all pride or arrogance ; and I'n 
his highest exaltation w^as easy of access, and remark- 
ably aflFable. His charity was unbounded; and his 
kindness to his dependants made their services appear 
like offices of love and gratitude, not the compulstom 
of superiority and duty. 



HUGH LATIMER, 

BISHOP OF WORCESTER* 

Bom 1475. — Burnt at the stake 155,5. 

From 1 \th Edward IF., to 2J Mary L 

THAT a religion whose distinguishing character is 
chanty and benevolence, should ever have been em- 
ployed as an engine of persecution, is mortifying ta 
those who enter into its divine spirit, and to the sceptic 
d2 



66 BISHOP LATIMER. 

and the Infidel furnishes a weak but plausible argornent 
against Its authenticity. In these days, Indeed, when 
bigotry and superstition are justly exploded among us, 
it must astonish every sincere Christian to reflect how 
it could have entered into the conception of man, that 
God can be honoured by a flagrant violation of his 
express command " to love one another,'' and that 
the kingdom of heaven is to be gained by the perpe- 
tration of crimes at wliich -hiimah nature turns pale. 
Yet It may be instructive to the rising generatidn to 
knowj that in former times fires have blazed for the 
immolation of human sacrifices, under the name of a 
religion that abjures and abhors them. 

lyatim.er, Ridley, Hooper, and Cranmer, all men of 
eminence In learning and station, suffered at the stake 
In the sanguinary reign of the bigoted Mary, and sealed 
'he truth of the genuine religion with their blood. I 
have selected the life of the first of these, as appearing 
4:o approach nearest to the standard of primitive sim- 
plicity and virtue ; and furnishing the brightest exam- 
ple of suffering patience, and of unshaken fortitude in 
trial. 

This apostolical divine was born at Thurcaster, in 
Leicestershire, of reputable parents; w^ho by honest in- 
dustry, remote from afiluence, brought up six daughters 
besides this their only son.. 

Of the juvenile part of his life there are no particu- 
lar memorials. He was entered of Cambridge, where 
he took priest's orders, and for some time showed the 
utmost eagerness in defending the tenets of the Romish 
church, which then began to be attacked, and in op- 
posing- the progress of what were then deemed here- 
tical opinions. This activity and zeal procured him 
the office of cross-bearer at all solemnities, an oflice 
which he sustained v/ith becoming dignity of deport- 
ment. 

But fortunately he did not stray long in the mazc^ 



BI5H0P LATIMER. 6? 

of error. He had a friend named Bilney, who, behig 
attached to tlie doctrines of the Reformation, and enter- 
taining a high opinion of Latimer's morals and abili- 
ties, exerted himself to win him over as an associate in 
the same cause. Latimer, who acted from the purest 
principle, and was open to tlie conviction of truth when 
his inquisitive mind had once become satisfied of the 
existence of error, soon professed himself a convert to 
protestantism ; and having once entered into its ra- 
tional views, he supported his belief by public preach- 
ing, by private exhortation, and by invincible courage 
joined to the most blameless manners. 

It was not long, however, before he was sensible of 
the danger to which he had exposed himself, and per- 
secution^ began to approach wLJi rapid strides. The 
orthodox clergy, m4)re exasperated against him than if 
he had never been their friend, thought it high tim.e to- 
oppose him openly. His opinions were declaimed here- 
tical in tlieir pulpit harangues : and some of their ar- 
guments against the innovation which he defended, 
that of using tlie Scriptures in English, however ca- 
nonical at that time, would only raise the smile of con- 
tempt in this enlightened age. 

' Notwithstanding this opposition, the protestant party, 
^of v/hom his friend Bilney and himself were the leaders, 
gained ground at Cambridge, and struck a panic into 
the dignitaries of that university. The latter, finding 
arguments ineffectual, had recourse to authority. The 
dioces?ai was applied to ; and at last a court v/as 
erected, consisting of bishops and canonists, who were 
commissioned to put in force the laws against heresy. 
Bilney, v/ho was considered as the principal offender, 
was obliged to recant and carry his own faggot; a 
mode of punishment which thus consisted only of a 
public exhibition of shame (as it was then thought), 
but happily extend^ed no farther : Latimer and others 
■ were dismissed with some courteous admonitions. 



68 BISHOP LATIMER. 

Cardinal Wolsey himself, after some private conversa^ 
tion, gave him a general licence to preach in all parts 
of England ; and he returned to Cambridge, animated 
with fresh zeal to promote the doctrines of the Refor- 
mation. 

Bilney being silenced, Latimer now became the head 
of the party : and having once or twice had the honour 
to preach before the king at Windsor, his majesty took 
particular notice of him ; which emboldened him to 
address his sovereign in a nervous and pathetic epistle 
against the cruel bigotry of the clergy, who had been 
sanctioned by a royal proclamation. The concluding 
words of his address deserve to be copied ; they are not 
the cold unimpassioned language of the head ; they 
£ow spontaneously from the heart : 

** Accept, gracious sovereign, without displeasure, 
what my duty prompted me to write. No personal 
quarrel have I with any man, as God shall judge me. 
I have no object but to induce your majesty to eonsidejr 
well what kind of "persons you have about you, and the 
ends for which they counsel. If they are not much 
slandered, their private interest is the rule of their con- 
duct. God grant your majesty m:^y see through all the 
designs of evil men, and be eqital in all things to the 
high office with which you are intrusted ! But, gracious 
king, reflect on yourself; reflect on your soul. Thin]c 
of that day when you must give an account of your 
office, and of the blood that has been shed by your 
sword. On which day that your grace may stand 
stedfast and unabashed, clear and ready in your rec- 
koning, and have your pardon sealed with the blood of 
our Saviour Christ, is my daily prayer to him who suf- 
fered for our sins. The spirit of God preserve you !" 

Such'W^as the impressive language in which Latimer 
pleaded with his sovereign. With the effect of his so- 
licitations we are unacquainted ; but it is certain that 
Henry entertained no unfavourable opinion of him for 



BISHOP LATIMER«r &9 

his freedom ; and soon after, he had an opportunity of 
recommending himself more effectually tp the good- 
graces of the king, by strenuously defending his di^ 
vorce, and maintaining his supremacy, in the univer- 
sity of Cambridge, where he still continued to exercise 
his talents. 

About this time, Cromwell was appearing on the 
horizon of court favour, and a similarity of principles* 
attached him to Latimer. The latter was now intro- 
duced at court, and had a living in Wiltshire bestov/ed 
on him ; to which he instantly retired to discharge its 
functions, regardless of the prospects that opened to 
him as a courtier. 

Not satisfied with a faithful attention to the imme- 
diate duties of his parish, he extended his labours 
through the country, wherever he found the pastoral 
care neglected ; and his preaching being in a familiar 
but extremely impressive strain, he soon acquired great 
reputation among the people. 

His fame daily spreading, and Iiis piety and benevo^ 
lence being such as malice could not scandalize nor 
envy distort, the orthodox clergy in those parts were 
seriously alarmed, and resolved to silence him. When 
he intended, one Sunday to preacli at Bristol, a man- 
date was issued by the bishop, prohibiting any one to 
mount a pulpit there without his special licence ; and 
though this was aimed against Latimer secretly, he 
immediately saw through the motive which dictated 
the inj^mction, but prudently disguised his feelings. 

Opposition soon became more public and more viru- 
lent ; and calumniators were suborned to accuse him of 
heretical opinions,^ chiefly by passages taken from his 
sermons. The charge was laid before the bishop of 
London, who cited him to a personal appearance before 
him. Latimer, sensible that this was an extrajudicial 
and assumed authority, appealed to his own ordinary ; 
but the primate being prevailed on to issue a citation 



70 BISHOP LATIMER. 

from Lambeth, he did not hesitate to comply, thouglx 
it was then tl^e depth of winter, and he was labouring 
under a severe fit of the stone and colic. 

When he arrived in London, he found a court of 
bishops and canonists assembled to receive him; but 
instead of being examined as to his doctrines, a paper 
was put into his hands, which he was ordered to 
subscribe. Finding that its purport was to profess his 
belief in some of the most absurd dogmas of the 
Romish church, he refused to sanction it with his name; 
and was then dismissed, with a hope that at the next 
appearance he would be found in a more compliant 
temper. This farce was acted again and again ; but 
as he still continued Inflexible, and even remonstrated 
against this vexatious usage, the court began to think 
of proceeding to greater severities. 

The king, however, being informed of his perilous 
situation, probably by the intervention of Cromwell, 
stept in and rescued him from his bigoted enemies. On 
his liberation, he attended at court ; and m.ade such an 
impression on Ann Boleyn by his simplicity and apo* 
stollc manners and appearance, that she warmly joined 
with Cromwell in recommending him to the first va- 
cant see. The king, In this instance, did not want 
much solicitation ; and in 1535 Latimer was offered 
the bishopric of Worcester, wiich he accepted. 

Having assumed the pastoral office, he was remark- 
ably assiduous in the discharge of every part of his 
duty : he preached, he visited, he reproved, he ex- 
horted ; and without rejecting all the superstitions of 
Rome, he explained them in such a way as was calcu- 
lated to facilitate the reception of the protestant doc- 
trines. 

"While thus usefully and honourably employed in the 
the proper sphere of his activity, he received a sum- 
mons to attend the parliament and convocation. His 
eloquence being then in great repute, he was called on 



BISHOP LATIMER. 71 

to open the latter bv a Latin oration ; but he prudently 
avoided launchine into the ocean of contest between 

o 

the protestant and the popish parties, and in conse- 
quence escaped an intended pubhc censure, which was 
directed at the primate Cranmer and hiniself. 

Anxious to discharge the functions of a bishop alone, 
he did not meddle with state affairs ; for which he had 
no inchnation, nor perhaps abilities. . It is certain that 
he had too httle policy to be a statesman, and too much 
bluntness for a courtier. He could not flatter vice, nor 
stoop to baseness ; and therefore spent no more time iu ' 
London than what was absolutely requisite. 

After a residence of tv%^o years in his diocese, he was 
again summoned to London, on parliamentary busi- 
ness ; and soon after, preaching a sermon before the 
king, in which he had (as usual) been severe against 
the prevalent vices of the court, he was accused of sedi- 
tion. With the undaunted consciousness of innocence- 
he repelled this idle charge ; and in the presence of his 
sovereign and his ministers professed his want of either 
desire or ability to preach before the court ; but added 
tliat, if called upouj he claimed the privilege of dis- 
charging his conscience, and framing his doctrine ac- 
cording to his audience. The firmness of his virtue 
defeated the mahce of his accusers, and the king dis- 
missed him v/ith tokens of regard. 

About this time Gardiner, bishop of Winchester, ob- 
taining great influence with Henry, the six bloody arti- 
cles (as they are called) were framed; the object of 
which w^as virtually to restore the Romish religion, , 
though the king \vas as tenacious of his supremacy as 
ever., Thus, by the versatility of the king's faith, and 
the violence of his temper, both protestants and papists 
were alike exposed to destruction. 

Latimer, being unable to reconcile those articles to -. 
his conscience, thought it w^rong to hold communion 
with a church that required them, and'imnitdiately re- 
d5 



[/^* 



72 BISHOP LATIMER. 

signed his bishopric. It is related that when he had 
divested himself of his episcopal robes, he leaped up, 
declaring that " he thought himself lighter than ever 
be was before/' 

Retiring into the country, his sole w^ish was to enjoy 
a sequestered life ; but receiving a violent contusion by 
the fall of a tree, he was obliged to repair to London 
for medical assistance. Here he had the mortihcation 
to find alLin confusion, the popish party triumphant, 
and his patron Cromwell in the Tower: ^w^hither he 
himself was soon afterwards sent, for having spoke 
against the six articles ; and during the remainder of 
this reign he continued in imprisonment. 

On the accession of Edward the Sixth a new scene 
opened ; and the friends of the Reformation were not 
only liberated, but received with every mark of aiFec- 
tion. Latimer w^as n6w pressed to resume his bishopric « 
of Worcester, in w^hich an ignorant bigot had been 
placed 5 but he excused himself on account of his age> 
and pleaded his claim to a disincy^mbrance from eccle- 
siastical care. 

He now took up his residence at Lambeth w^ith his 
friend archbishop Cranmer, and cliiefly devoted himself 
to acts of charity. He had a principal share, however, 
in the composition of the homilies v/hich were pub- 
lished by authority ; and occasionally preached before 
the king. 

On the revolution at court after the duke of Somer- 
set's death, he travelled over the country as a general 
preacher ; it practice which he continued till the acces- 
sion of Mary, w^hen he was immediately cited before 
the council. As he passed through Smithlield, where 
heretics were usually burnt, he said with a cheerful air, 
** This place has long groaned for me." 

After some abuse from the council, he was commit- 
ted to the Tower a second time, and Cranmer and Rid- 
ley w^r.^ scon $ent to join him. Their imprisonmnent for 



BISHOP LATIMER. 73 

some months was severe : but at last they were sent to 
Oxford, under the care of the lietitenant of the Tower ;^ 
where they were informed that the long-depending con- 
troversy between the papists and the protestants would 
be finally determined, in a disputation between the most 
eminent divines of both parties. -However, when they 
arrived there, they were all confined in the common 
prison ; and denied the use of pen, ink, and paper. 

In this dismal state, their chief relief was in prayer 
and meditation ; and when the commissioners from the 
convocation came down, about a month after, articles 
were exhibited for them to subscribe or confute. Hav- 
ing declined the former, copies were delivered them,- 
and separate days were fixed when they were publicly 
to argue against them. 

The venerable Latimer, his head palsied with age, 
and his hand propped by a staiF, with a Bible tinder his 
arm, briefly professed the articles of his belief, but jo- 
cularly obser%^ed, " that he was as fit to be made go- 
vernor of Calais as to dispute, at his time of life, and 
under such circumstances.'* The arguments used by 
the more you thf al " champions, Cranmer and "Ridley, 
were over-ruled by the insolence of authority, and 
treated with contempt. 

The three bishops, after a close confinement of six- 
teen months, till the pope's authority could be com- 
pletely restored, were brought, not to trial, but to con- 
demnation. Cranmer was cajoled into a recantation,' 
and thus had a few bitter months added to his life ; but 
he atoned at last for this instance of weakness. Lati- 
mer and Ridley were sentenced to the stake, and soon 
after carried to execution. 

The scene of this dreadful tragedy was opposite Ba- 
Itol college. The spectators burst into tears, when 
they saw men venerable for age, dignity, and wortli,'- 
about to suffer such a horrid death. Latimer appeared 
in a shroud prepared for the purpose j and looked oia 



74 SEBASTIAN CABOT. 

the pile which was to consume him, with the confi- 
dence of immortal joy. Being fastened to a stake with 
an iron chain, a faggot ready kindled was laid at. Rid- 
ley's feet ; on which Latimer exclaimed, " Be of good 
comfort, master Ridley, and play the man : we shall 
this day light such a candle in England, as I hope, by 
God's grace, will never be put out.'^ Then recom- 
mending his soul to the Almighty, the flames quickly 
closed on him, and he passed through this fiery ordeal 
to eternal bliss. Ridley was much longer in torture, but 
supported the fortitude of a Christian martyr to the last. 
Of characters so severely tried, and so greatly victo- 
rious, it is impossible to speak in adequate terms. The 
honest heart feels what no lan2:uag:e can express. For 
piety, charity, humility, and exemplary manners, they 
were both alike distinguished. Their labours were all 
calculated to promote the cause of true religion and 
practical morahly ;• to make men good and happy 
here, and prepare them for eternal happiness hereafter. 



SEBASTIAN CABOT/ 

Born about 1477 — Died 1557. 

From 16th Ed-ward //^., to -ith Mary I, 
THP2 close of the fifteenth century was pregnant with 
many great events, and produced some of the most ex- 
traordinary characters for enterprize that ever graced 
the annals of fame. Columbus discovered a new con- 
tinent, and Di Gama laid open the precious treasures of 
the East. Henry the Seventh, to whom the former 
•had offered his services through the medium of his 
brother, was either too incredulous or too penurious to 
embrace the mighty project ; but when he at length 
became sensible of wnat his narrow policy had lost, 
ambition ox curiosity roused him to participate in the 



SEBASTIAN CABOT. l5 

hanout and advantages of Columbus's discoveries^ 
though he could no longer claim them by an original 
title. 

The patronage of a king will always elicit enterprize; 
and no country is so barren in genius and talents as not 
to possess some aspiring minds, to which royal counte- 
nance and encouragement can impart an enthusiasm 
for daring and suffering. 

Sebastian Cabot was born at Bristol, about 1477» 
His father was a native of Venice ; and made it his first 
care to educate his son in those branches of marine and 
mathematical science, to which commerce had then 
just given celebrity and value. Before Sebastian was 
twenty years of age, he had performed several voyages ; 
and by thus adding practice to theory, he became early- 
eminent in tlie nautical profession. 

The first voyage of importance, however, on which 
he was engaged, seems to have been that made by his 
hither John : who had obtained a joint commission 
with his son from Henry the Seventh, for the discovery 
of a north-west passage to India ; the favourite object 
of Columbus, whose glorious career the king was then 
desirous that his subjects should emulate or excel. The 
tv70 Cabots sailed from Bristol in the spring of 1494 ; 
and pursuing their course with favourable gales, on the 
twenty-fourth of June saw Newfoundland ; which they 
named' Prima Vista, or Jirst seen. Landing on a small 
' island on this coast, they gave it the appellation of 
^ St. John's, from its discovery on the day dedicated to 
St. John the Baptist. This place proved to be barren, 
but tlie seas that encircled it abounded with fish. The 
natives vrere clothed in skins ; and armed with bows, 
arrovv's, pikes, wooden clubs, darts, and slings. . The 
navigators returned to England with three of these sa- 
vages on board, made a report of their discoveries, and 
met with a gra.cious reception from their delighted 
.prince. 



4 SEBASTIAN CABOT. 

The father dying soon after, a fresh patent was 
granted to his son Sebastian, to proceed again in quest 
of new discoveries : he accordingly set sail on the fourth 
of May, 1497, before Columbus had commenced his 
third voyage. He sailed as high as 67 degrees 30 mi- 
nutes of north latitude ; whence shaping his course 
southerly, he came down to 56 degrees, after which he 
explored the whole coast of North America as low as 
38 degrees. This part of the continent, he expressly 
says, was afterwards named Florida. His provisions 
beginning to be exhausted, he found it expedient to sail 
back ; and, first touching at Newfoundland, returned 
to England with a full cargo of the productions of the 
countries which he had visited. 

It is probable that Sebastian made several subse- 
quent voyages to coitiplete his survey of the coast of 
Newfoundland. A chart of his discoveries, drawn by 
himself, with his efBgy annexed, was hung up as a cu- 
riosity in tlie private gallery at Whitehall. 

Some of our writers, with the laudable partiality of 
men feeling for the honour of their country, have ex- 
pressed their indignation that the New or western 
World should, be called America, when in fact Cabot 
had discovered that continetit before Americus Vespu- 
tius (from whom 4t was nam^d), or even Columbus 
himself. 

Newfoundland, in its most extensive sense, was cer- 
tainly the first of our plantations ; and the spirit of en- 
terprize to which the discoveries of Cabot gave rise, 
naturally paved the way to the subsequent naval power, 
the commerce, and the glory, of the British nation. 
While Spain was enervated and rendered indolent by 
the riches poured into her lap from the discoveries of 
Columbus, it was the happier fate of England to se- 
cure such a soil and climate as gave a new stimulus to 
exertion, and rendered her enterprizing sons strll more 
hardy and more brave. 



SEBASTIAN CABOT- 77 

Of the history of a man \vho thus undoubtedly first 
discovered the continent of America, every trace must 
be interesting to a Briton. But for the space of twenty 
years of his life, no vestiges of his labours are on re- 
cord. In the eighth year of Henry tlie Eighth he again 
appears ; and was then, through the interest of sir Tho- 
mas Pert, vice-admiral of England, furnished v/ith a 
good ship of tlie king^s, to prosecute fresh discoveries. 
It seems, he had by this time altered his plan, and his 
intention was now to sail by the south to the East In- 
dies. For this purpose he proceeded' to Brazil : but, 
failing in the grand design of his voyage, he shaped 
his course for St. Domingo and Porto Rico ; and, after 
carrying on some traffic there, returned to England, 
without much increasing his reputation by this expe* 
dition. 

Disappointed, and probably neglected in consequence 
of his failure, he left his native country, and entered into 
the service of Spain ; In which he rose to the highest 
rank, and signalized himself in many hazardous at- 
tempts to promote the views of his employers. But for- 
tune frowned upon him once more. In an intended 
voyage to the Moluccas through the Straits of Magel- 
lan, his men became mutinous, and his project was 
thereby frustrated. Ho^^ever, he sailed up the rivers 
Plata and Paraguay, built several forts, and discovered 
and reduced under the dominion of Spain a rich and 
fertile tract of country. After spending five years in 
America, he returned in chagrin to Spain, where he 
niet with a cold reception. 

These circumstances, probably, conspired to make 
him anxious for revisiting his native land ; and about 
the end of the reign of Kenry the 'Eighth, we find him . 
settled again at Bristol. 

A spirit of maritime adventure beginning at this time 
to be diiFused through England, in 1552 Cabot was 
active In a speculation to fit out ships for discovering 
the northern parts of the globe ; and thereby to. explore 



78 BISHOP JEWELL* 

new scenes c>f action, and open fresh channels of com-* 
merce. This expedition took place under the patronage 
of government, and was the first voyage ever made to 
Russia ; a voyage which laid the foundation of the in- 
tercourse that we have since maintained with that na- 
tion, to the mucual profit of both. Upon this first suc- 
cess a Russian Company was formed,. of which Cabot 
was constituted governor for life* 

After an active life, spent in pursuits honourable to 
himself and useful to his country and to mankind, he 
died in a very advanced age, retaining his cheerfulness 
of temper and urbimity of manners to the last. 
Though his nautical fame is inferior to that which is 
justly ascribed to Columbus, his claims as an original 
discoverer are yet far superior to those of AmxCricus 
Vesputius ; but fortune has given the latter a celebrity 
which is neither equitable nor just. Thus one man fre- 
quently earns the prize of merit which another carriejr 
away. 

Cabot was the first who noticed the variation of the 
magnetic needle, so important in tlie science of naviga- 
tion : but this must have occurred antecedently to the 
jfirst voyage of Columbus ; as all the historians of his 
adventurous enterprize agree, that this phenomenon, 
which has never yet been satisfactorily explained, great- 
ly perplexed and astonished that spirited navigator 
amidst the unknown seas VN^hlch he was traversing. 



JOHN JEWELL, 

BISHOP OF SALISBURY- 

Bom 1522— Died 1571. 

From I Sth Henry VIII , to 1 3th EUzahdL. 

IN purity o*F manners, integrity of life, and w^ell-tem- 
pered zeal in defence of the protestant cause, Dr. John 



BISHOP JEWELL, ' 79 

Jewell furnishes an amiable example, which deserves to 
be handed down to posterity as both an incentive and a 
pattern. His works also on polemical theology, at a 
time ^vhen this species of \\Titing had its utility and its 
praise, still rank him high among the champions of re- 
ligious liberty, and the learned apologists for a separa- 
tion from the church of Rome. 

This eminent divine was descended from an ancient 
family in Devonshire, and was born at the village of 
Buden in that county. He received the first rudiments 
of classical learning under his maternal uncle, a respect- 
able clergyman ; and passing successively through the 
schools at Branton, South Molton, and Barnstaple, 
where his progress must have been considerable though 
the little incidents of his puerile days are unrecorded^ 
before he had attained the age of fourteen he was en- 
tered of Merton college in the university of Oxford. 

His first tutor w^as a man of no literary eminence, and 
rather inimical to the doctrines of the Reformation* 
At the period when the intellectual powers begin to ex- 
pand, principles generally sink deep ; and had not this 
promising youth been soon after committed to the care 
of another gentleman, in every respect the reverse of 
his former preceptor, it is possible that protestantism 
might have lost one of its ablest defenders and most 
exemplary ornaments. 

Having, however, imbibed the tenets of the reformed 
' religion, and distinguished himself by his aptitude for 
learning and his assiduity in its acquisition, he removed 
to Corpus Christi college, where he was chosen scholar ;. 
and pursued his theological studies with such ardour, 
that he became almost Vv^holly absorbed by them. It is 
recorded of him, that he read from four in the morninp^ 

o 

till ten at night, almost regardless of the calls of nature ;, 
by which indefatigable perseverance he acquired a most 
extensive fund of knowledge, but at the expense of his- 
health ; an object of so much importance to maintaia 



80 BISHOP JEWELt,. 

and secure, that youth should never overlook its value, 
either in their thirst for innocent pleasure, or even the 
laudable ambition of literary acquirements. In conse- 
quence of neglecting a cold, he contracted a lameness 
which attended him to the grave ; and in other respects 
he had undermined his constitution before he reached 
the prime of life. 

' His abilities, however, were so conspicuous, and his 
virtues so great, that he commenced tutor with general 
applause, and initiated many in the doctrines of the Re- 

. formation. Being afterwards chosen professor of rheto- 
ric hi his college, he read lectures with distinguished 
reputation, and daily added to his celebrity and his in- 
fluence. So estimable too \yas his moral character, 
that the dean, a rigid papist, used to exclaim, " I should 
love thee, Jewell, if thou wert not a Zuinglian. In thy 
faith I hold thee to be a heretic, but in thy life thou art 
an angel.'* 

When Edward the Sixth mounted the throne, Mr. 
Jewell made a public profession of his principles ; and 
contracted an intimate friendship with Peter Martyr, the 
divinity-professor of the university. On being made 

'bachelor in divinity, he preached an excellent Latin 
sermon in defence of the protestant doctrine : and sedu- 
lously attended to his pastoral duty at Sunningwell in 
Berks, of which place he v/as rector ; whither he regu- 
larly walked every Sunday, notwithstanding his painful 
lameness. 

The short reign of Edward, and the bigotry of his 
successor Mary, soon exposed Mr. Jewell to all the rage 
of persecution. The fello\^ of his owncoil-ege lost no 
time in expelling him for heresy ; but the university, 
either out of respect to his abilities, or (as others say) 
with a design to entrap him, appointed him to draw 
up and deliver it^ congratulatory address on the queen's 
accession. This piece, however, was composed with 

such felicity of matter and expression, that it not onljr 



BISHOP JEWELL. 81 

passed without censure, but was favourably received by- 
all parties. 

Unwilling to quit the scene of his honourable labours, 
he withdrew to Broadgate-hall, now Pembroke college, 
w^here he continued his lectures ; but popery being re- 
established, and his life in danger, he was drawn into a 
compulsive signature of tenets which his heart and rea- 
son abjured. His enemies so well knew the inefficacy 
of his subscription, that they determined to deliver him 
up to Bonner, the grand inquisitor : but he avoided 
their vigilance ; and, taking a by-road towards London 
by night, walked till he was quite exhausted, and 
obliged to lie down upon the ground. In this situa- 
tion he was providentially found by a benevolent Swiss, 
who had formerly been in the service of bishop Lati- 
mer : this man conducted him to the house of a lady, 
where he met with a hospitable reception^ and by whom 
he was afterwards privately conveyed to London. 

The zeal and friendship of sir Nicholas Throgmor« 
ton furnished him with means of reaching the conti- 
nent : where he immediately joined his former associate, 
Peter Martyr, v/ho had preceded him ; and witlf ^lat 
learned divine settled first at Strasburgh, and afterwards 
at Zurich, where a profession of the reformed religion 
w^as neither criminal nor dangerous. The society v/hich 
they kept was distinguished for erudition, and zeal for 
protestantism ; and their situation w^as not uncomfort- 
able : but, on the joyful news of Elizabeth's accession^ 
Dr. Jewell returned to his native land ; wherq his fame 
and reputation had suffered no diminution by his volun- 
tary exile, but rather gained an amplje increase. In 
consequence of this, he was particularly favoured b^r 
the queen ; and, soon after his return, appointed one of 
the sixteen protestant divines to hold a disputation in 
Westminster-abbey against the champions of popery. 

The tide of preferment now flowed on apace ; and in 
guick Accession he rose to several dignities, which were 



i 



82 BISHOP JEWELL. 

soon after crowned by the mitre. In 1559 he was con- 
secrated bishop of Salisbury, and never were ecclesias- 
tical rank and emolument more judiciously bestowed. 
Dr. Je\vell had showa his attachment to the Reforma- 
tion in the most critical times ; Ke had enforced its^ doc- 
trines both by his eloquence and his writings, and had 
adorned them by his blameless life and exemplary con- 
versation. 

The papists however, though often confuted, were 
not to be abashed. The more absurd any tenets are> 
the stronger hold they take on minds of a certain cast ; 
the feeble intellect is confounded by what it cannot 
€om.prehend, and it regards the plausible delusions of 
designing men as the sacred mysteries of religion. On 
this account the bishop of Salisbury found It necessary 
to be active and urgent in his exertions to trace and dis- 
concert the schemes, and break through the snares, of 
an insidious and domineering party. He impeached 
some of the leading dogmas of the Romish church, and 
challenged the whole v/orld to defend them ; but the 
Papists, though they did not altogether decline the con- 
troversy, knew too well the disadvantageous ground on 
which they now stood, to enter the lists with him in 
public. 

The bishop, encouraged by success, and emboldened 
by the present aspect of aifairs, published his famous 
Apology for the Church of England. This work was 
translated into all the modern languages of Europe, and 
even into Greek : it did more service to tlie cause of die 
Reformation, and more injury to popery, than almost 
any other work that can be named, or put in competi«- 
tion with It ; and still deserves to be read by every mena- 
ber of' the church of England, and in short by every/ 
Protestant who v/ishes to know the foundation of the 
principles which he professes to believe and' follow. 

Dr. Jewell was not only celebrated as an able de- 
fender of the prctestant faidi, but carried a spirit of 



BISHOP JEWELL. 83 

reform into every ecclesiastical department within the 
sphere of his jurisdiction. He corrected clerical abuses, 
purified the courts, and made them instruments of uti- 
lity instead of engines to oppression. 

While engaged in such truly honourable public pur- 
suits, and in an unwearied applica.tion to private studies, 
he began to feel the strength of his body unequal to the 
vigour of his mind ; yet no advice from his friends, no 
affectionate warnings of the danger which he incurred, 
could prevail on him to relax into the least indulgence 
to himself. He persisted in his usual practice of rising 
at four o'clock ; at five he called his family to prayers ; 
at six he attended the public v/orship in the cathedral ; 
and the remainder of the morning- he devoted to study. 
Some part of the afternoon was taken up in public 
audiences, and the transaction of business ; at nine in 
the evening he examined his servants how they had 
spent the day, and afterwards joined with them in fa- 
mily devotion. From this time till midnight he with- 
drew to his study ; and even when at last he was dis- 
posed to indulge nature in repose, one of his chaplains 
generally read to him till he fell asleep. 

A life so watchful, so laborious, without any relaxa- 
tion except the change from one engagement to an- 
other, without any recreation except at moderate and 
hasty meals, could not fail to hasten the advances of 
mortality, and to abridge the number of his days. But 
if life be estimated by action, Dr. Jewell may be said 
to have reached longevity. Very few hours dedicated 
to sleep are to be subtracted in computing the term of 
his efficient existence ; and even when the notices of 
Jiis approaching end could no longer be disregarded, 
it was his constant observation that a bishop should die 
preaching. 

His sense of the episcopal duty w^as undoubtedly 
very strong ; and it may be said almost literally, that 
t.e died ai his post. Having promised to preach at a 



84 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM- 

church in his diocese, he set out, when evidently la^ 
bourmg under a severe illness, regardless of the im- 
pending danger. He preached his last sermon, but 
with difficulty ; and soon after resigned his immatulate 
soul into tlie hands of him who gave it, at Munkton 
Farley, and was buried in tlie choir of Salisbury cathe- 
dral. 

The character of this primitive bishop will be best 
seen in his life and manners, but every particular re- 
specting such a worthy man cannot fail to be interesting. 
In his person he was thin and spare, the effect probably 
of his intense application to study ; in temper he was 
pleasant and affable, modest and meek ; in his morafs 
he was pious and charitable ; and after he became a 
bishop, he seems to have made as near approaches to 
the standard of christian perfection as the weakness of 
human nature will permit. He was gifted with a very 
tenacious memory, which he had improved to an extra- 
ordinary degree by art ; so that he could exactly repeat 
w^hatever he wrote, after a single reading. This useful 
attainment he appears to have been capable of commu- 
nicatltig to others. Of his skill in languages, and his 
immense erudition, he has left sufficient testimonies in 
his writings ; which, as far as they were practical, re- 
ceived an instructive and persuasive comment from his 
life. 



SIR THOMAS GRESHAM- ^ 

Bom 1519— Died 1579. 

From lOt/j Henry VIIL, to "list Elhaltth 

IN the age of queen Elizabeth, our commerce began 
to expand itself to the remotest parts of the world \ and 
the character of a merchant to become as truly respect- 
able as in tiie eye of reason and the scale of utility it 
1 



SIR THOMAS GRKSHAM. 85 

certainly deserves to be. The national opulence of Bri- 
tain, hei; consequence, and her glory, arise neither from 
peculiar fertility of soil, .extent of territory, nor number 
o:' inhabitants, in all which respects she is excelled or 
rivalled by her neighbours : but from her shipping, 
manufactures, and trade : from the spirit of enterprize 
that actuates her capitalists ; from the industry and 
ability of her artists ; and from the skill and resolution 
of her seamen ; which last have carried the British flag, 
either to enrich or aggrandize their country, wherever 
winds blow, or ocean rolls. 

But among all the mercantile, characters who in past 
or present times have done honour to their native land, 
or immortalized their memory by laudable and bene- 
volent actions, there are none that can be put In compe- 
tition with GaESHAMza man who will be remembered 
with gratitude while the city of London shall remain 
the emporium of nations ; and while- extensive commer- 
cial knowledge, combined with a love of science, shall 
merit esteem and reputation. 

Thomas Gresham was descended of an ancient family 
in Norfolk, several of whom had borne the honour of 
knighthood ; and among the rest his father sir Richard, 
who was sheriff of London In 1531, and much employ- 
ed by Henry the Eighth In his foreign contracts and 
negotiations. He had two sons ; the elder of whom, 
though bred to his father's business, accompanied the 
protector Somerset in his expedition to Scotland, and 
was knighted by him in the field of battle at Musselbo- 
rough, but died In the reign of -queen Mary. The 
younger, the subject of the present memoirs, was' also 
t)Ound very early to the trade of a mercer ; but it ap- 
pears probable that this was only to initiate him in a 
general knowledge of business, for neither his birth nor 
Ills fortune required that he should for any length of 
'time submit to the drudgery of a counter. 

It is to be lamented, however, tliat scarcely a single 



86 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM. 

particular of this celebrated merchant's early life can 
be found on record : it is certain that he received a 
classical education : and, notwithstanding his appren* 
ticeship, he passed some years at Caius college, Cam- 
bridge, under its great founder Dr. Caius; who, in ■ 
compliment to the learning and proficiency of his pupil, 
calls him mere at or doctissimus, or " the very learned mer- 
chant.'* 

But though the higher departments of trade are by 
no means incompatible with great advances in learning, 
Gresham's destination in life being early fixed by pater- 
nal solicitude, he soon engaged in active commerce ; 
which put an end, in a great measure, to his literary 
pursuits, though not to his zeal in the cause of learning. 
He was made free of the mercers' company, and about 
the same time married the widow of a gentleman br*-^ 
the name of Reade. 

On the death of his father, Vv^ho had been the king's , 
agent at Antwerp, another person was appointed to that 
office : but from his defect either of abilities or integri- 
ty, he involved his sovereign in considerable difficulties ; 
and young Gresham, being consulted on the mode of^ 
extricating his majesty from the pressure of certain pe- 
cuniary engagements, gave such shrewd and satisfac- 
tory advice, that he v/as immediately authorized to 
carry his own ideas into execution, and removed to 
Antv/erp with his family in the character of royal 
agent. 

Here he soon found himself involved In a business of \ 
great intricacy,arising from the want of prompt respon- 
sibility in his government : the fertility of his invention, 
hov/ever, enabled him to accomplish the object in view ' 
with honour to himself, and advantage to his master. 
Having discovered the selfish and intriguing disposition 
of the Flemings, he counteracted it in the most effectual 
manner for the service of his country ; and raised the 
reputation of England to such an unusual pitch, that he 



Sm THOMAS GRESHAM. 8? 

eoald with facility borrow money on equitaMe terms* 
either on account of government or by his own private 
credit. He turned the balance of trade wholly in favour 
of England ; and so much raised the course of exchange, 
that money flowed apace into his native countiT', which 
had been exhausted before, and was even deeply in 
debt to the citizens of Antwerp. 

However, on the accession of queen Mary he was 
removed from his appointment ; but not before he had 
obtained sufficient grants from his late royal master to - 
enable him to live with credit in the style of a private 
;gentleman, in a patent settling a pension on him and 
his heirs for ever, signed only tliree weeks before Ed- 
ward's death, among other honourable expressions are 
these words, ** You shall know that you have served a 
king." 

During the reign of Mary he was rather a petitioner 
for justice, than an object of favpur ; but when Eliza- 
b^h ascended the throne, and merit was confident of 
royal regard, he was among the first citizens of London 
who experienced her discriminating attention. She 
employed him to furnish the arsenals with arms ; and 
soon after conferred on him the honour of knighthood, 
and made him her agent in foreign parts. 

Among his fellow-citizens his credit at this period 
had arrived at a very high pitch ; and in order the 
more firmly to establish his connections among them, 
'Jie built a spacious house on the west side of Bishops- 
gate-street, afterv/ards called Gresham*-college, where 
he lived in a style becoming his character, opulence, 
and station. 

But that progperity which had hitherto- been I^s eoit- 
-stant attendant with little variation, was now inter- 
ni^ad by the severest domestic calamity. He had an 
Gttly 5ta named Richard, about sixteen years of age.; 
and his toils and his cares v/ere probably all directed t^ 
seciira tfe fortune and to promote the welfkr^ of thts 



B8 SIR THOMAS GRESHAM. 

object of Ills fondest affection : but he was deprived ot 
Mm in the bloom of youth, before it was possible that 
his virtues could be developed, or his faults could dimi- 
nish the anguish of a parent's sorrow. 

The strong ties which bound him to his offspring 
ieing now for ever dissolved, with the dignity of a man 
who still wished to perpetuate his name by honourable 
■service, he tunied his thoughts to the welfare of his fel- 
low^citlzens, among whom he lived highly respected 
and beloved. 

The merchants of London had hitherto met to tra;5is- 
act business in the open air in Lombard-street, subject 
to all the inclemencies of the weather ; and he con- 
ceived that he could not inore essentially serve them, 
than by erecting an Exchange for their use on the plan 
of the Bourse at Antwerp. Animated with this liberal 
idea, he only requested the corporation to assign him 
an eligible spot of ground for the purpose, and promised 
then to erect the edifice at his own expense. Such an 
offer could not be considered with indifference. The 
citizens gave him the site of eighty houses in Comhill, 
which were pulled down ; and on the seventh of June 
1567 sir Thomas laid the first stone of the Bourse (as it 
was then called), which was raised with such extraordi- 
nary diligence that it was completed before Christmas. 

When tlie building was fit for use, and the shops 
, within its precincts opened, queen Elizabeth, attended 
by her courtiers, went in procession to inspect it : and 
being highly gratified with the munificence and taste of 
its founder, she ordered a herald, by sound of trum- 
pet, to proclaim it the Royal Exchange ; an appella- 
tion which she desired it might ever afterwards retain. 
This structure however, though sufficiently splendid 
and capaciaus for that period, was by no means equal in 
grandeur to the present. The dreadful fire in London, 
in 1666, consumed it with numerous other public and 
private buildings : and out of its ashes rose the present 



SIR tllOAlAS GRESHAai. 8S 

pile, tshlch was finislnjd iit the joint expense of the citv 
and tliAiercers' company, at the cost of eighty-thousand 
pounds. 

.It Is impossible to do adequate justice In this limited 
sketch to the patriotic exertions of sir Thomas Gresham, 
either in the service of his sovereign or of his fellow- 
citizens, Philip the Second, king of Spain, having in 
the rage of disappointment prohibited all commerce in 
Flanders with the English, Cecil, then secretary of state, 
found it expedient to consult sir Thomas on the proba- 
ble consequences of this measure, and the best means of 
counteracting its effects. His advice appeared so judi- 
cious that it was immediately adopted, and thus the ma- 
chinations of tlie enemy were made productive of their 
own injury and disappointment. At his instigation, 
government not only averted the danger of this restric- 
tion on the English trade, but adopted m.eans of becom- 
ings less dependant on other n;uions. Till that period 
all loans had been negotiated on the continent ; a pro- 
ceeding by which this country w^as impoverished, and 
foreigners were enriched. A new scene, however, was 
now opened ; it was determined to try the measure of 
raising money from the merchants of London : and 
though at first, from the novelty of the plan, and the 
general ignorance of the rich traders, it met with ^ very 
cool reception, yet by the interest of Gresham it was at 
l^tst carried into full execution ; and thus a revolution 
I vras effected in the financial operations of the govern- 
iTient, at once tending to ensure ks stability, and w pro- 
mote the interest of the subject. 

The prudent regulations thus adopted, rendered a 
foreign agent no longer necessary for money negotia- 
tions, and the post held by sir Thomas Gresiiam was 
superseded by his own publtc-spirited designs : but the 
queen, who was not insensible to his distinguished merit, 
immediately joined him in an honourable commission 
with the archbishop of Canterbury, tl^ bishop of Lop^ 
E 2 



90 iSIR THOMAS GRESHAM. 

don, and some lords of the council, who were usually 
appointed assistants to the lord-mayor in the govern- 
ment of the city during her splendid progresses (as they 
were called) through her dominions. 

A life so full of activity as sir Thomas Gresham's, 
was not likely to leave much space for indulgence in 
privacy. The mercantile world was not only the scene 
of his occupation, but of his pleasure ; he loved the so- 
ciety of men whose views had been enlarged by com- 
merce, and was never more happy than on his favourite 
Exchange. But as years came on, he found some re- 
laxation necessary j and therefore purchased an estate 
at Osterley, where he built a magnificent seat for his- 
occasional retreat from the cares of business and the . 
bustle of the capital. 

But his very hours of amusement were not spent 
in vain. A vigorous mind can derive some improve- 
ment from every object : a benevolent heart is never 
removed from the sphere of its exertions. He erected 
paper, oil, and corn mills in his park at Osterly ; . 
which at once filled up his leisure by the necessary 
superintendence of them, and furnished constant em- 
ployment to various descriptions of artificers and la- 
bourers vrho depended on him for their subsistence. 
At this seat queen ^Elizabeth visited " the royal m.er- 
chant," as he used to be called; and was magnificently 
entertained. Once when her majesty pointed out an 
improvement in the court before the house, which she 
said would look better if divided, sir Thomas, anxious 
to show his respect for his sovereign's taste, privately 
sent to London for workmen, and when the queen rose 
ne^t morning she was astonished to find her suggestion 
completely carried into execution. 

It has been mentioned before that this opulent and 

worthy citizen had the misfortune to lose his only son, 

Providence having thus prevented the means of perpe. 

tms^ting lii^s name except by his flwn noble actions. The 

7 



SIR THOMAS GREimAM. 91 

Exchange alone Would have rescued hi^ memory from 
oblivion ; but so rapidly had his fortune accumulated by 
his great judgment in mercantile transactions, that he 
began to project new schemes of beneficence to his 
fellow-citizens and to mankind. 

The city of London having no establishment express- 
ly devoted to the liberal sciences ; and the merchants of 
his tim.e, from want of education, being commonly ob- 
stinate and prejudiced, as sir -Thomas had witnessed on 
NQany occasions in his intercourse with them ; he reflect- 
ed that he could not m.ore effectually promote their wel- 
fare than by converting his mansion-house in Bishops- 
gate-street into a college, and endowing it with suffi- 
cient revenues for professors in the different sciences. 
In this Jie followed the plan of an academic institution ; 
though it cannot be denied that lectures adapted to the 
local circumstances of the great emporium of the 
world, would be more desirable and beneficial at the 
present day. 

No sooner v/as this generous design divulged, than 
the ruling persons in the university of Cambridge used 
every argument to induce him to alter his plan, and 
every solicitation to obtain a preference in his beneficent 
intentions. Being the scene of his own education, it 
might be naturally expected that he would rather found 
a college there than in Oxford ; and they expatiated on 
the danger of "affecting the interests of the two esta- 
blished universities by raising a rival institution. His par- 
tiality for CamJjridge was undoubtedly strong, but that 
in favour of London was still stronger. He persevered 
therefore in his first design ; and on the 20th of May 
1575 executed a formal deed, by which, after the death 
of his lady (should she happen to survive him), his 
tov/n-house was to be converted into a* college, and suf- 
ficient revenues v/ere assigned for the support of pro- 
fessors in divinity, law, physic, astronomy, geometry, 
music, and rhetoric. 



92 ^IR THOMAS GRESH AM. 

Having gh^en to his proposed institution ail the s&t' 
biHt7 of legal forms, and bequeathed by will consider* 
able sums to several private and public charities (par- 
ticularly the hospitals); like a man who had performed 
an honourable part in life, and was ambitious to benefit 
the v/orld when called from it, he began to court retire- 
aiient, and that tranquillity which is best suited to de^ 
aiming age. Few had more claims to the peaceful en- 
joyment of the last hours of existence. His fortime 
was so ample as to preclude every anxious care ; and the 
long series of pious and benevolent actions which he had 
.pcrfornied, must have afforded him an inexhaustible 
shurce of pleasing reflection. Beloved and respected, 
he enjoyed the smiles of well merited friendship, and 
the homage of the public ; and had his days been pro- 
tracted to a much later period, it is probable from his 
disposition and his conduct that the last would have 
been still more honourable than the former. 

In four years after he had adjusted his -worldly af- 
fairs in a manner which will ever reflect lustre on his 
name, he was seized with a fit of apoplexy in his own 
kouse, immediately on his return from the Exchange ; 
and suddenly falling, all attempts to restore him proved 
ineffectual. His funeral was conducted in a public and 
solemn manner, worthy the respect due to so dfistin- 
guished a citizen. His charitable deeds too may bb said 
to have followed him to the grave; his hearse being 
attended by a hundred poor men and as many poor 
women, for whom he left by Jhis will appropriate mourn- 
ing dresses. 

From the best accounts that have been transmitted 
to us, it appears that this truly patriotic citizen was 
throughout of a temper generous and benign, and that 
his posthumous charity was only a continuation of the 
munificence that had adorned his life. He was well 
versed in ancient and modern languages ; and showed a 
predilection for learning, atid its professors whether 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 93 

natives or foreigners. Some acknowledged his patron- 
:ige in very handsome terms, and among these John 
Fox the martyrologist. Few have equalled his public 
spirit, or can claim a larger tribute of esteem and gra- 
titude. He who lives only for himfelf, will soon be 
forgotten; but he whose labours are directed to the 
perpetual benefit of the community, may well lay claim 
to immortality as his reward. 



JAMES CRICHTON, 

Commonly known by the Appellation of 

THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON, 

Born about 1560 — Died about 1582. 

From 2nd to 2^th Elizabeth. 

THE almost miraculous qualities ascribed to the 
person long known by the name of the Admirable 
Crichton, are so vague and extravagant, that the pro- 
digious and unparalleled talents which he actually pos- 
sessed have in consequence been brought into dispute; 
and if the concurring testimony of contemporaries did 
cot corroborate and establish his fame, his very exist- 
ence might in time become questionable. A display 
of such endowTTientSy according to their most moderate 
estimate, cannot fail to have a powerful effect on the 
generous "minds of every youthful reader, v/hen he 
thus sees what is attainable by man. 

The time of the birth of this human prodigy has 
been variously related, but by the best authorities^it is 
dated at the year 1560* His father soon after became 
lord-advocate of Scotland, and his mother was liueallr 
descended from the royal family of that country; so 
that Crichton, in the subsequent scenes of his lifeydld 
not boast without reason of his high extractipn* 



94 THE ADMIRABJLE CRICHTON'. 

He is said to have received his grammatical learning 
at Perth; but Aldus Manutius, who aftervv^ards be- 
came intimately acquainted with him, asserts that h^ 
studied under Buchanan and other preceptors, of 
James the First, along with that monarchy 

That the best masters in every branch of learnings 
fell to the lot of Crichton, may well be supposed from 
his proficiency ; and it is absolutely impossible that he 
could have imbibed all his various knowledge from any 
one man of the age m which he lived, however strong 
tiie natural force of his genius may have been. But 
llutherford, at the time a famous professor at St. An- 
drew's, had the honour of being his tutor at that uni- 
versity ; and derives m.uch greater renown from having 
formed such a scholar, tlian from his once famous 
writings on Aristotle, which are now obsolete and use- 
less» 

Before Crichton reached his twentieth year, he had 
run through the whole circle of the sciences, and was 
«t master of ten languages j, which, from his vast me. 
mory, v/er2 as familiar tp him as his motherrtongue. 
Nor was his fame confined merely to literary excel- 
lence : he seemed to combine the most discordant qua- 
lities, and was without a rival in all corporeal exercises.. 
It is recorded of him, that in fencing he could spring 
at one bound the length of twenty feet on his antago- 
nist, and could use the sword in each hand with equal 
dexterity. He had also a fine voice, and great skill ia 
playing on musical instruments. His person and 
countenance were alike eminently beautiful, which 
served "to set off all his other accomphshments; for 
even virtue never fails to be still more acceptable in a 
graceful form. 

Thus qualified, he set out on his travels ; fully sen- 
sible of his stupendous acquirements, and fired with 
an ambition to display them. Having reached Paris, 
he affixed a kind of challenge on the gate of one of the 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 95 

colleges, inviting the learned of that university to a 
disputation on a certain day; giving his opponents, 
whoever they might be, the choice of ten languages, 
and of all the sciences. 

After such a bold and novel step for a youth still in 
his minority, it might have been supposed that he would 
have devoted the interval to refresh his memory at 
least, and prepare himself against every advantage that 
could reasonably be taken of his unguarded provoca- 
tion. But the reverse appears to have been the fact. 
He gave himself wholly up to pleasure, or public 
manly exercises. He engaged in every diversion and 
in every dissipation with ardour ; and became so con- 
temptible in the eyes of the student's of the uni". vC- 
sity, that beneath his own notice they caused to be 
written, " that the most likely place in which to find 
this monster of perfection would be the tavern." 

But Crichton soon redeemed his character, and co- 
vered his detractors with confusion. On the appointed 
day he attended in presence of three thousand auditors ; 
and after a disputation of nine hours against four doc- 
tors of the church and fifty masters, he silenced his an- 
tagonists, and was presented with a diamond and a 
purse of gold amidst the loudest acclamations. Every 
passion that had agitated \^\e university, was now con- 
verted to admiration ; and one of his opponents is 
said to have confessed that Crichton, who now ob- 
tained the epithet of *^ the admirable," gave proofs of 
knowledge almost supernatural ; and that a hundred 
years spent in an incessant application to study, v/ould 
not be sufficient for such aLtainments. It is farther 
Jidded, that sp. little was the youthful champion fa- 
tigued with the dispute, tliat th^ next day he attende<^' 
a tilting-match at the Louvre, where in presence of 
the court of France he boi'e away tlVe ring fifteen tim>es 
successively. 

ThQ next account of Crlcliton places Kinr at Rj^mef 
E 5 



96 THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 

where he fixed a notice^on all the most public places 
throughout die city, intimating that he would discuss 
or answer an'y proposition or matter whatever extem- 
poraneously. In a city so famous for scholastic learn- 
ing, a challenge bearing such apparent marks of pre- 
sumption could not escape satire. He was considered 
as a literary empiric, and (as before at Paris) the place 
of his residence was signified to such as wished to see 
his exhibitions : but Crichton, not at all daunted, en- 
tered the lists, and in the presence of the pope and 
cardinals bore away the palm of victory. 

On leaving Rome he directed his course to Venice ; 
and from some Latin lines still extant which he com- 
pAsed on this occasion, it seems that, notwithstanding 
ail the reputation which he had acquired, he was either 
distressed in mind, or laboured under some pecuniary 
embarrassment. Having, however, introduced himself 
to Aldus Manutius, who Avas amazed by his extraordi^ 
nary endowments, he was brought acquainted, by means 
of this distinguished scholar, with the literati of that city, 
and afterwards had the honour to attract the notice oi 
the doge and senate ; before whom he pronounced an 
unpremeditated complimentary oration with such dig- 
nified oratory and force of eloquence, that he received 
the thanks of that illustrious. body, and was universally 
considered as a prodigy. 

From Venice he repaired to Padua, tlie university 
of which place was at that time jn the highest repu- 
tation. Here he engaged in another disputation, 
beginning with an extemporary poem in praise of the 
place and his auditors; and after disputing six hourij 
with the most celebrated professors, whom he foiled 
on every subject vj^hich they started, he concluded, to 
the astonishment of every hearer, with an unpren^edi- 
tated poem in cornmendation of ignorance. 

Amidst all his literary conquests/ he continued his 
pursuit of pleasure with the same eagerness as if it had 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 97 

been his sole study. So contradictory were his merits, 
and such was the versatility of his talents, that he 
became the subject of envy as much as admiration* 
Few were willing to allow one man to carry away so 
many prizes -, and in proportion to his fame, the op- 
sition of his revilers increased. Crichton was not 
insensible of this : and to silence at once the invidious 
detractors of his talents, he caused a paper to be posted 
up in which he offered to prove that there were innu- 
merable eiTors in the works of Aristotle, and gross ig- 
norance in his interpreters ; at the same time that he 
was ready to dispute in all the sciences, to answer any 
questions, and to repel any objections, either by logic, 
or a hundred kinds of verse, or by analytical investi- 
gations and mathematical figures. This contest he 
maintained for three days ; and conducted himself 
with such spirit and energy, and so completely van- 
quished his opponents, that he obtained the loudest 
plaudits. 

The literary fame of the admirable Crichton by this 
time had spread over the remotest parts of Italy ; and 
when he came to Mantua, he had an opportunity of 
signalizing himself by a feat of arms. A prizefighter 
who had defeated the most celebrated masters in Eu- 
rope, had fixed his residence for a time in Mantua, and 
had killed three persons who had entered the lists against 
him. The duke of that place therefore began to regret 
that he had granted his protection to this licensed mur- 
derer : which, reaching the ears of Crichton, he was 
fired with the ambition of ridding the world of such a 
sanguinary monster ; and offered to stake fifteen hun- 
dred pistoles, and to mount the stage against him. 
With some reluctance the duke consented ; and every 
thi-ng being prepared, this single combat was exhibited 
before the assembled court, and an immense concourse 
of spectators^ Their weapon was the single rapier, 
then^ newly Introduced into Italy. The prizefighter 



98 THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 

advanced with great impetuosity ; while Crichton con- 
tented himself with parrying his thrusts, and suffered 
him to exhaust his . own vigour before he himself at« 
tempted to charge. At last, watching his opportunity, 
Crichton became the assailant ; and pressed upon 
his antagonist with such force and agility, that he ran 
him thrice through the body^ and saw him expire. Ke 
tlien generously divided the prize which he had woa 
among the widows whose husbands had been killed by 
his late antagonist. 

The duke of Mantua conceived the highest esteem 
for this illustrious stranger ; and made choice of him 
for preceptor to his son Vincentio di Gonzaga, a prince 
of dissolute manners and a turbulent disposition. The 
appointment was highly acceptable to the court : and 
Crichton, to evince his gratitude, and to contribute. to 
the amusement of his patrons, composed a comedy in 
which he exposed and ridiculed all the principal weak- 
ne*«5ses and miscarriages of men with the most poignant 
satire and propriety of application ; and in the repre- 
sentation of this play he himself exhibited fifteen dif- 
ferent characters, v.'^ith such inimitable ease and grace 
that he appeared every time to be another person. 

But the time was now approaching which was to prove 
that with all his endowments Crichton was no more 
than: mortal. Roving about the streets one night du- 
ring the carnival, and playing on the guitar, he was 
attacked by six men in masks. His courage did not 
desert him on this critical occasion : he opposed them ^ 
with such spirit and skill that they were glad to fly ; , 
and their leader, being disarmed, threw off his mask,-. 
and begged his life. Hov/ must it have wounded the/ 
ceEsibility o£ Crichton, to discover in the suppliant the 
prince his pupil i Instead oi" merely granting the for-*, 
feited life, which was all that ought to have beea re->- 
4juired, he fell on his knees, apologized. fc« his mistake,^ 
aud, presenting his s\ycrd to the- prince, told hiaa, that- 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTOK. 99 

his highness was always master of his poor existence, 
and needed not to have sought his death by treachery. 
The brutal prince, either irritated by the affront which 
he had received, or stung with jealousy, grasped the 
proffered instrument of destruction, and plunged it into 
his tutor's heart. 

Thus fell the admirable Crichton, in the very bloom 
of youth, by the hands of one worse than a common 
assassin. The court of Mantua testified their esteem 
for his memory by a public mourning, and the con- 
temporary wits expressed their grief in numerous ele- 
giac compositions ; and for a long time afterwards his 
picture decorated the chambers and galleries of the 
Italian nobility, representing him on horseback with a 
lance in one hand and a book in the other. His death, 
according to the best accounts, took place in 1582, 
when he was only twenty-two years of age. 

That a man who, during his short but brilliant ca- 
reer, filled such a space in the minds of men, should 
have many of his most memorable achievements dis- 
puted, is mortifying to those who are animated with a 
love of posthumous reputation. The case seems to 
be, that whatever character is raised too high in one 
age, is sure to be sunk too low in another. Envy, 
which is afraid to attack exalted living ment, con- 
soles itself with preying on the dead. The fame of 
Crichton, like that of an actor, was chiefly confined to 
those who had v/itnessed his achievem.ents. He wrote 
little, but he performed much : the latter was soon for- 
gotten, or blended with fiction ; and the few specimens 
which he has left of his intellectual powers, either do 
not rise above mediocrity, or at least would not entitle 
him to extraordinary praise. He blazed like a meteor 
for a mxoment : his coruscations dazzled tlie eyes of 
the beholder ; but when he vanished, the impression 
which he had made wa$ no where to be found. Yet 
he was certainly cne €f the most accomplished men 



100 SIK FRANCISVVAI.SINGHAM. 

that ever appeared. To those who feel the aspiringi 
of genius, he furnishes an example of the heights to 
which it can ascend ; to those who are less gifted by- 
nature, his unsettled life and his melancholy end may 
at least teach acquiescence in the humbler gifts which 
Providence has assigned to them. 



SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM- 

Born 1536— Died 1590. 
From 2*1 th Henry FIIL, to 32ncl Ert%aheth. 

NO period in English history is more illustrious than 
the reign of Ehzabeth for the great men which it 
produced in every department of the state, and who 
w^re called Into action by that penetrating judge of 
merit who then sat on the throne. Indeed, half the 
glory of this sovereign may be fairly ascribed to the 
abilities of her ministers : nor does this in the kast de- 
rogate from her just fame ; for, to adopt the sentiment 
ef an acute discerner of men and manners, " no weak 
prince was ever known to choose a^wise council.*' 

Among the worthies who contributed to the honour 
of Elizabeth's reign, and gave stability to her govern- 
ment, sir Francis Walslngham occupies a prominent 
place. As an able politician, and an honest man, he 
was celebrated by his contemporaries ; and he seems to 
have deserved the highest praises which they could be- 
stow, as the subsequent notices of his life will evintce. 

This statesman was born at Chislehurst in Kent, o^ 
an ancient and honourable family ; but it is a matter of 
serious regret that no memorials ofliis early life, which 
can serve to stimulate the youthful bosom to follow his 
steps, have been preserved by the historians of his time. 
It only appears that he was educated at King's college, 
Cambridge, and soon after sent;, on his travels into 



SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. 101 

foreign countries. His attachment to the principles of 
the Reformation, however, were well known while he 
was under the shade of academic bowers ; and per- 
haps it was fortunate for him that he was abroad du- 
ring the sanguinary reign of Mary. 

With a genius turned for politics, he availed himself 
of every opportunity which his travels afforded, of ac- 
quiring an intimate acquaintance with the laws, govern- 
ment, customs, and manners of the nations on the con- 
tinent ; and such were his accomplishments and known 
aptitude for public business^ that on his return he 
speedily attracted the notice and was taken into the 
confidence of Cecil, by whom he was brought forward 
in a manner suitable to his talents and views. 

That he possessed a maturity of parts, even when he 
first launched on the ocean of politics, may^e inferred 
from this circumstance : he was appointed ambassador 
to the court of France during the civil wars in that 
kingdom ; and acquitted himself there with such zeal 
and ability in various important and delicate trans- 
actions, particularly in a negotiation relative to a treaty 
of marriage between his mistress and the duke of Alen- 
9on, and afterwards between her and the duke of Anjou, 
that he was ever after considered as fully qualified to 
discharge the most weighty trusts at home or abroad. 
The papers that passed during these embassies were 
collected by sir Dudley Digges, and published under 
the title of the Complete Ambassador ; and from these 
his penetration, judgment, and abilities, may be dis- 
tinctly appreciated. But no part of his character is 
more estimable than his perfect disinterestedness. Eli- 
zabeth, though she could distinguish merit, was sparing 
in her rewards : accordingly Walsingham, zealous ta 
support the dignity of his station and to promote the 
interest of his sovereign, incurred greater expenses 
than his public allowances would defray ; and it ap- 
pears that he rathex impaired than bettered his circum* 



102 SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. 

stances during his residence in France. On his return, 
however, he received the honour oj knighthood ; and 
v/hen his firm friend and patron Cecil was raised to the 
peerage by the title of lord Burleigh, and made lord- 
treasurer, Walsingham was appointed one of the secre- 
taries of state, and sworn of the privy-council. 

In this situation he not only gratefully supported 
Burleigh's powder and influence, by which he had him- 
self risen : but on a variety of occasions detected and 
disconcerted intrigues and conspiracies at home, and 
with an intuitive sagacity penetrated into the most se» 
cret designs of foreign cabinets. 

The states of Holland were now just rising into 
political consequence. Walsingham was sent over in 
1578, as the queen's representative, atone of their early 
meetings ; and by his influence and address he contri- 
buted much to form the basis of their union, which was 
successfully consolidated the following year. 

In short, on every occasion where skilful manage- 
ment and consummate address were deemed requisite, 
Walsingham had the honour to be employecl. " To 
him" says Lloyd, " most faces spoke as v/ell as thei^ 
tongues, and their countenance was an index of their 
hearts.'' He also maintained a number of spies and 
agents, and thus developed the most secret designs be- 
fore they w^re ripe for execution. 

Being attached to the protestant religion, he settled 
its constitutional polity ; and disconcerted all the in- 
trigues of the papists ; who not only dreaded his pene- 
tration, but complained of his insidious artifice, which* 
was an overmatch for their own. At first he showed 2tf 
predilection for the puritans ; but finding that they-" 
IV'Ould not make the least advance k) uniformity, even 
in the most harmless ceremonies, he left them to their 
tarrow principles and obstinate prejudices. - 

Intelligence having been received that the young Icmg" 
<)f Scotland, afterwards James the First of Engl^xidy o^- 



SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. 103 

whom rfie queen always kept a watchful eye, wa? 
placing his confidence in favourites w^hom she disliked, 
Walsinghanj was dispatched to break through his dtiti- 
slon, or to create an opposition'party in his court* The 
latter point he eirected, but he seems to* have formed 
a \wpong estimate of the character and abilities of the 
youtliful monarch. This prince testified an uncommon 
fondness for literature, and talked sensibly on his favour- 
ite topics, V/alsingham, being v/ell versed in ancient 
ajid modem authors, pleased him by his quotations from 
Xenophon, Thucydides, Plutarch, and Tacitus ; and 
on subjects of general knowledge they interchanged 
sentiments with mutual freedom and satisfaction. This 
politician thought he foresaw that so much theory as 
James possessed would, at a maturer age, be turned to 
useful practice, and he gave a report accordingly ; but; 
in this he proved to have been deceived. James might 
have made an useful academical tutor, or even a pro- 
fessor ; but his mind w^as rather contracted than en- 
larged for public business by his attachment to the clas- 
sics and ■ by his taste for polemics, in which latter he 
w^as a proficient. A mind not originally great, is only- 
rendered more conspicuously feeble by an undigested 
j mass of learning ; just as a clown appea.rs more ridicu- 
lous in a court dress than in his own. 

When Elizabeth had determined on the trial and ccn- 
i demnation of her unfortunate rival Mary queen of Scots, 
I Walsingham was appointed one of the commissioners in 
I this tragical business. He had previously exerted him- 
self with great industry and effect to develope the plot 
pf Babington's conspiracy, in which Mary was impli- 
cated ; and appears to have been guided in this whole 
transaction by the purest sentiments of loyalty and mo^ 
ral obligation, for he rejected as infamous a scheme 
pressed by Leicester of taking off the captive queen by 
poison. 
: In course of the trial, when Mary charged him with 



104 SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. 

counterfeiting her cypher, and practising against her 
life and that of her son, Walslngham rose with a digni- 
fied emotion, and protested that his heart was free from 
all malke towards the prisoner; calling God to witness 
that in his private capacity he had done nothing unbe- 
coming an honest man, nor in his public capacity'tmy 
thing unworthy of his station. He declared that he had 
ck>ne what his duty and allegiance prompted, and by 
those principles alone had regulated his conduct. Mary, 
With noble frankness and generosity, gave osedit to his 
protestation ; and even apologized for having believed 
what she had heard against him. 

When all Europe was kept in fearful expectation by 
the vast armaments which the king of Spain was pre- 
paring, and no one could penetrate into his real design, 
Walsingham employed every manoeuvre that a long ha- 
bitude with politics could suggest, to discover this im- 
portant secret; and learning from an emissary at Ma- 
drid that the king had avowed to his council the send- 
ing off a letter to the pope, begging his benediction e$ 
the design which he had avowed in it (a design how- 
ever which he did not choose to divulge till he had ob- 
tained an answer), the artful secretary, by means of a 
priest who v/as his spy at Rome, procured a copy of 
the original letter, which was stolen out of the pope's 
cabinet by a gentleman of his bedchamber while he 
slept. 

Having by this dexterous management developed the 
mystery which had puzzled the deepest politicians, he 
prevented the Spaniards, by obstacles which he raised, 
from receiving those pecuniary supplies which would 
have enabled them to put to sea ; and thus the sailing 
of the armada was. delayed for a whole year. 

By his intense application to public business, Wal- 
slngham seems to have hastened that moment which no 
human power or address can at last escape. He died 
in the fifty-fourth year of his age ; and, though he had 



SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM. l0.5 

held sonic iyt the highest and most lucrative stations, 
tlid not leave enough to defray the last oflices due to 
mortality. To save his bod^f from an arrest, his friends 
were obliged to bufy him by night in St. Paul's church ; 
without the respect and honour due to such a rare in- 
stance of political sagacity, disinterested zeal, and pure 
patriotism. He left only one daughter, who was mar- 
ried successively to three very distinguished characters ; 
sir Philip Sidney, Devereux earl of Essex, and Bourke 
«arl of Clanrickard and St. Albans. 

In Walsingham his too penurious mistress lost one of 
her most faithful servants, and the public one of its best 
friends. He seems to have been one of those statesmen 
in w^hom the noblest virtues love to dwell. He pur- 
•sued the good of his country by all practicable means, 
regardless of all other objects. He w^as eminently in- 
strum.ental in promoting voyages of discovery, and 
every useful scheme of trade and navigation. The pro- 
testant religion found in him a warm and a judicious 
supporter, and all the machinations of Rome to over- 
throw it fell beneath his superior address. , 

His negotiations, or state-papers, display at once his 
literary and his political talents. A manual of pru- 
dential maxims, entitled Arcana Aulica, is likewise 
ascribed to him, though with no sufficient authority. It 
is very probable, however, tliat some of the most valu- 
able sentiments found in this work were borrowed from 
him : one of these, which his whole public life illustrated^ 
is a% follows : *' Knowledge is never bought too dear.*' 

That this great and good statesman was a patron of 
literature, is evident from his founding a divinity-lecture 
at Oxford, as also a library at King's college Cam- 
bridge. He assisted Hackluyt ; and his purse as well 
as his influence were always at the service of those who 
were qualified to do honour to tiieir country by their 
arms or arts, by their enterprize or their talents. It 
was impossible indeed to escape a man of Walsingham's 



.^^ 



106 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. | 

penetration, that the patronage of merit and talents in 
general is the glory and the best support of government ; 
or, in olher words, that knowledge and virtue are th^ 
gales by which states are wafted into the port of the 
surest prosperity. 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

Born 154^5— Dkd 1596. 
From 36/A Henry Fill, to SSti EUzaheilu 

THE illustrious names which throw a splendour on 
the age of Elizabeth are so nunKirous, that selection be- 
comes difficult. It produced men eminent in all the 
arts that give a security to nations, or embellish the- 
walks of private life : heroes, adventurers, statesmen, 
poets, and scholars, rose in quick succession, or rather 
were contemporary; and exce|5t the present and part 
of the last, in no preceeding or subsequent reign have 
such brilliant naval achievements been perfotmed. 

Among those who by their courage an~d nautical skill 
contributed to ennoble their country, and the great 
princess whom they served, the first English circumna- 
vigator Drake, stands conspicuous. He was the eldest 
of twelve children, and born at a village near Tavi- 
stock, in Devonshire. His father was a mariner, but 
bis circumstances are not known. He had the good 
fortune, however, to be connected by marriage with s\t 
John Hawkins; who took young Drake under his pa- 
tronage, and gave him that kind of education which 
was best adapted to a marine life, for which he was de- 
stined from his infancy, A cloud frequently hangs over 
the early years of celebrated characters, which 'late 
biography in vain attempts to pierce. Of the juvenile 
period of Drake's life, not a single incident has descend- 
ed to posterity. The first record of hi§ ;ictive life is^ 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKH. i07 

that by the interest of his patron, co-operating with 
his own abilities, he was appointed purser of a shi^ 
trading to Biscay, about the eighteenth year of his age. 
At twenty he made a voyage to Guinea, which then 
began to be visited ; and two years afterwards ^as 
appointed to the command of a vessel. In this capa- 
city he particularly distinguished himself in the glorious 
action which took place under his patron sir Johur Haw- 
kins, at St. John de Ulloa in the harbour of Mexico ; 
and returned to England with a rising reputation, but 
without the least advancement in his foriune. The 
€vent of this voyage seems to have given him a rooted 
enmity to the Spaniards, 'vvhich terminated only with 
his life. In those tim.es the law of nations seems to 
have been interpreted with great laxity ; and preda- 
tory voyages against the rich Spanish settlements were 
frequently undertaken by private adventurers, rather 
witli the connivance tlian the sanction of their sovereign. 
In such expeditions, where the love of enterprize or 
thirst of gain was the ruling motive, Drake took a very 
active part ; yet his success, and the aversion to the 
Spanish name which had then become national here, al- 
ways protected him* from a strict inquiry into the autho- 
; rity under which he acted, or the means which he pur- 
\ sued to effectuate his designs. 

j He made three succcrsive voyages -against the Spa- 
! nish settlements in Am.erica : and besides doing much 
: mischief to individuals, obtained a consid-^rable share of 
i booty; which, greatly tc. his honour, he aivided with 
I strict impartiality among die companions of his fortune, 
! and those who had risked any thing in his undertakings^ 
1 This conduct, so just and praiseworthy, gained him a 
I high reputation, and made him the idol of his men. 
.' With the fruits of his industry and liis courage, he 
i now fitted out three frigates, and sailed for Ireland */ 
' where he servsd as a volunteer under Walter earl of 



108 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE, 

Essex, and performed signal acts of valour. On the 
death of this nobleman he returned to England ; where 
he was introduced to the queen by sir Christopher Hat- 
ton, and very favourably received at court. Thus 
basking in the rays of royal favour, ^hls views ex- 
panded to nobler achievements than he had yet at- 
tempted, and he projected an expedition which will ren- 
der his name immortal. 

When a man of an ardent imagination once gives him* 
self up to the pursuit of interest or ambition, nothing ap- 
pears too arduous that flatters his darling passion. Ha- 
ving in .one of his former expeditions obtained a pro- 
spect of the great South Sea, Drake determined that no 
obstacles or dangers should deter him from endeavour-' 
ing to spread his sails on that ocean. But indefatiga- 
ble as he was in the pursuit of his desigil, it was not till 
the year 1577 that he had collected a force sufficient to 
man five vessels ; when, by a particular royal commis- 
sion, he appeared as admiral, or (as the phrase then 
Wc\%) general of the squadron. 

The fleet equipped for this important expedition cort- 
sisted of the Pelican, of one hundred tons, the ilag-ship; 
the E/.izabeth, the Marygold, the S\van, and the Chris- 
topher, ail of inferior burthen. . These vessels were 
partly fitted out at his own risk, and partly at the ex- 
pense of others ; and manned with a hundred and sixty- 
four select mariners. They were stored v/ith all neces- 
sary provisions, and at the same time famished with 
whatever could contribute to ornament or delight ; car- 
rying a band of music, rich furniture, and specimens of 
the most elegant productions of this country. The ad-- 
Hiirars table was equipped with silver utensils, ^nd 
even the cook-room was decorated with the same costly 
metal. This apparent ostentation, however, might be 
the effect of policy ratlier than vanity. Of the respect 
which is always paid to the externals of opulence, Drake 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 109 

was fully sensible^ and be omitted no means of keep- 
ing up an appearance suitable to the station which he 
now held. 

. Though his reputation was by this time sufficiently 
blazoned, yet either prudently reflecting on the difficul- 
ties to which his men had been exposed in former trans- 
atlantic expeditions, which might have deterred the less 
resolute, or probably to conceal his design from the 
court of Spain, he gave out that his intended voyage 
was to Alexandria ; nor was iiis real destination known 
till he readied the coast of BraziL 

Every requisite preparation having been made, 
Drake sailed from Plymouth on the i5th of November 
1577 : but soon after was forced by tempestuous v/eather 
into Falmouth ^ whence he took his final departure on 
the 13th of December, with all the auspicious indica- 
tions of a favourable voyage. 

On the 5th of April he made the coast of Brazil, no 
important occurrence inter\^ening ; and entered the 
river De la Plata, where he parted company with two 
of his smaller ships ; but meeting them again, and 
transporting the men and provisions into the rest, he 
turned them adrift. 

After encountering a dreadful storm, in wJiich the 
admiral was saved by the skill and intrepidity of his 
second in command, on the 29th of May they entered 
the port of St. Julian, not far from the Straits of Magel- 
lan ; where they lay two months, in order to make pre- 
parations for passing that dangerous and hitherto little- 
known channel. 

At St. Julian, a tragedy was acted which impartiality 
obliges the biographer to record. Drake, having 
summoned his principal officers to attend a court-mar- 
tial, opened his commission, which gave him power of 
life and death ; and wnth considerable eloquence (which 
he possessed notwithstanding his imperfect educatioa) 



110 SIR I^RANCIS DRAKE^ 

began to charge a gentleman named Douglity, wh* 
hod long been the object of his dislike, with first plotting 
to murder him, and then to ruin the enterprize. Jea-^ 
lousy^ of his talents and his wortli is generally thought 
to have alone prompted this persecution. However 
this may be, malice backed by power will seldom fail 
of accomplishing its object, particularly where the in- 
fluence of the laws is too distant to be felt or feared. 
Of this melancholy affair there are various and even 
contradictory accounts; but none, though they pal- 
liate the admiral's conduct, can wipe away the suspi- 
cion of deliberate cruelty. With a mockery of justice, 
'^vhile he observed some of its least important forms, he 
condemned to death a gentleman who had been his 
friend, and who followed his fortunes by the admiral's 
own particular solicitations. The mock tribunal which 
had been instituted by Drake, and over which he him- 
self presided, confirmed the sentence. The ill-fated 
X)oughty obtained only the respite of a single day, to 
•settle his affairs both temporal and spiritual. The ad- 
miral, It Is said, received the communion with him ; 
and, with a. hypocritical show of regard, assured him 
of his prayers. 

Tiie consciousness of his innocence seems to have 
supported this unhappy victim. He broke out into nd 
invectives against his prejudiced judges ; he even pre- 
-served a serenity of countenance and mind, recorh- 
mended his friends to the candour of Drake, and srub- 
^litted to the axe of the executioner- wath constancy 
and fortitude. . »> 

The admiral, by pkusible harangues and excuses, 
endeavoured to justify his conduct ;. but though thfc '. 
panic-struck- crew might acquiesce in his decision, at 
the present day Drake mu'St be thought indefenwhle in 
the whole of this business, as far at least as a review of 
the existing documents enables.' posterity now to judge. 



yiiii:: 



SIR FRANCIS 0RAKE. Ill 

Cruert7 ought ever to be the object of abhorrence, and 
the more so when it assumes the insidious mask of jus- 
tice. 

The fleet being now reduced to three ships, Drake 
bade adieu to port St. Julian, and on the 20th of Au- 
gust entered the Straits of Magellan ; v/hich, notwith- 
standing the intricacy and. difficulty of this naviga- 
tion, he passed in sixteen days, a shorter space of time 
tlian has ever been employed by any succeeding navi- 
gator. 

No sooner however had the expedition entered the 
gi'eat South Sea, than they were overtaken by a violent 
storju, which continued without intermission for nearly 
a month : during v/hich time tlie ships were dispersed ; 
and left Drake at least two hundred leagues out 
of his course, in latitude 55 degrees south. Here 
they discovered a number of small islands ; and were 
fortunate enough to obtain a supply of refreshments, 
by an interchange of such toys as are always valuable 
in tlie estim.ation of barbarians. 

Departing from these shores, another storm of much- 
greater violence arose, and drove them to the very ex- 
tremity of the South-American coiist : where they saw 
for the first time the conflux of the southern and western 
oceans ; and at length had the good fortune to navi- 
gate a calm unruffled sea, to which they had so long 
been strangers. v 

Drake now directed his course to the appointed place 
of rendezvous in case of the separation of the fleet : but 
when he arrived at the wished-for latitude, he found 
neither ships nor convenient harbours ; and therefore 
steered directly to Macoa, where the natives at first 
exhibited an appearance of friendship. But probably 
mistaking them for Spaniards, a nation whom they had 
reason to detest, they soon after laid an ambush for a 
watering party, killed tv/o of the crev%', and slightly 
wounded the admiral under the eye with an arrovf. 



112 SIR FRANCIS ©RA-KE. 

This disaster induced them to shorten their stay: 
and now sailing along the coasts of Chili and Peru, 
thev carried terror wherever they appeared ; and plun- 
<iered ships and rich towns with so little opposition, 
that the men became satiated with spoil, and began to 
indulge the wish of returning to their native land to 
^njoy it. But the admiral was iired with glory no less 
than avarice ; and expatiated on the honour as well as 
the utility of discovering a nearer passage to Europe, 
.which he did not deem impracticable. 

His influence and authority prevailed ; and with a 
view of exploring a north-west passage, they proceeded 
to the latitude of 45 degrees north. But here the cold 
proved so intolerable to persons Jong accustomed to a 
warm climate, that he was obliged to desist from the 
further prosecution of his design ; and measuring back 
their course to California, they put into a harbour of 
that peninsula ; where the natives received them in 
the most hospitable manner, and even offered to confer 
the sovereign power on the admiral. This compliment, 
of course, he declined for himself; but transferred 
the proffered allegiance to his mistress queen Eliza- 
beth, and took possession of the country (to which he 
gave the appellation of New Albion) in her name. 
ITieceremony being ended, the simple natives demon- 
strated, the highest respect and veneration for the 
strangers ; and lacerated their bodies in the severest 
manner, as is customary among savage nations when 
actuated by grief or joy. 

Though the acquisition of this territory was only va- 
luable either to tlie admiral or his country for furnish- 
;ing supplies and a.resting-place on tlie present occasion, 
Drake seems to have prided himself much on the vo- 
luntary grant ; and ^before his departure caused the cir- 
xumstances of the resignation to be engraven on a 
brass plate, ,and fixed up as a memorial of tlie transag- 
itioa* 



'SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 113 

No sooner were the Indians sensible that their new- 
friends were about to leave them, than they burst out 
into the most lively expressions of sorrow. As the ships 
receded from the shore, they ascended the hills to pro- 
long their view of them ; and lighted up fires, as if 
tliey intended to make sacrifices. Indeed when we 
consider with what profound respect, almost bordering 
on adoration, the Spaniards were first received on this 
continent, it is not unlikely that the simple natives of 
California might act under similar impressions : certain 
it is, that the conduct of Drake long rendered the Eng- 
lish popular among these barbarous tribes. 

It v/as on the 23d of July that he quitted these 
shores ; and after a general consultation, it was agreed 
on to proceed to the Moluccas, In tlie latitude of 20 
degrees north, he fell in with some islands where the na- 
tives at first shewed signs of amity, and readily barter- 
ed thdr commodities ; but, emboldened by the mild 
behaviour of the English, they became insolent y when 
the discharge of an unshotted piece of ordnance check- 
ed the progress of their unprovoked aggression. 

On the 3d of November, tliey had a joyful view of 
the Moluccas, and touched at Ternate : whose king ap- 
pears to have been a wise and politic prince ; and kept 
up a dignified regal state, while he was not deficient in 
paying proper honour and respect to his visitors. 

Here they shipped between four and five tons of 
cloves, refitted the ships, and refreshed the crews; 
but just as they were about to sail, they had the inhu- 
manity to abandon a male and female negro taken 
from one ©f the Spanish prizes. The poor gkl, it seems^ 
was only about fifteen years of age ; and either by 
Drake or one of his companions, had become in that 
state which entitled her to protection from every manly 
and feeling heart. It is impossible to mention an inci- 
dent of this kind, without iixost severely reprobating 
«uch cruel and atrocious ccnducu 
r..2 



114 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

In their course towards Celebes, they fell in with a 
number of islands, the name;4 of which are not re- 
corded : but just as they flattered themselves with 
having escaped the dangers incident to such a naviga- 
tion, the ship struck during the night on a hidden rock ; 
and the murmurs of the crew at such a protracted 
^''oyage, which had long been with difficulty repressed^ 
now broke out into all the virulence of invective, and 
the wildness of despair. Fletcher, the chaplain, was 
particularly severe against the admiral : but he, feeling 
the dreadful catastrophe in which they were involved, 
disguised his resentment at the rude attacks which he 
was obliged to endure; tried to conciliate the minds 
of his people by every lenitive art that experience could 
devise ; and in the midst of the most imminent danger 
of universal ruin, preserved a courage, prudence, and 
presence of mind, unaltered. 

At last, when every ray of hope was gone, and they 
expected to be sw^allowed up without leaving a single 
memorial of their adventures behind, the wind suddenly 
shifted, and the surges heaved the ship off the rock. 
They now continued their course to Baratane ; where 
they were hospitably received, and repaired the damage 
which they had sustained. 

Departing thence, they proceeded to Java ; and toofci" 
In a fresh supply of provisions, with an intention of pro-l 
secuting the voyage to Malacca : but the crew now be- 
came absolutely mutinous, and insisted on the admiral'sj 
directly steering for Europe. 

Being obliged to yield to their menaces, the admiral" 
directed his course towards the Cape of Good Hope i 
but in order to satiate his resentment on some indivi- 
dual as a terror to the rest, he seized on Fletcher, who 
had been loud in censuring his conduct when the ship 
was in danger of being lost ; and, accusing him of in- 
citing tlie crew to opposition, went through the sam6 
forms of external justice as had been employed in th^ 



SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 115 

case of Doughty^ aiul concluded with deposing him 
from the priesthood ia a singular form of excom- 
munraition, and afterwards degraded him to the rank 
and duty of a common seaman with every mark of 
disgrace. 

On the 1 5th of June 1580 they doubled the Cape of 
Good Hope : and, without any other occurrence worthy 
of remark, reached Plymouth on the 3d of Novem- 
ber ; having performed the circumnavigation of the 
globe hi two years and about ten months. 

The news of Drake's arrival was soon disseminated 
over the kingdom ; and as this was an age when heroic 
deeds met the highest admiration and regard, the ad- 
miral's reputation reached the most exalted pitch, and 
the fame of his accumulated wealth heightened the re- 
spect which was paid him. 

Yet as merit and enterprize will always excite envy, 
his conduct and principles were not only canvassed by 
his countrymen, but the Spanish ambassador exerted 
himself to have him declared a pirate notwithstanding 
the royal commision. The queen, with that policy for 
which she was distinguished, heard the arguments of 
his friends and opponents, but concealed her own senti- 
ments till a proper opportunity offered of divulging^ 
them. 

In this state of painful suspense Drake remained for 
some months ; uncertain whether he should be declared 
a benefactor to his country, or its disgrace. At length, 
when matters were sufficiently ripe for an avowal, the 
queen threw off the veil at once ; and went on board 
his ship at Deptford, where she w^as magnificently en- 
tertained ; and conferred the honour of knighthood on 
our navigator, observing that his actions did him more 
honour than his title. She also gave orders for the pre- 
servation of the ship which had performed such an ex« 
traordinary voyage, and it was long visited as an object 



116 JJIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

of public curiosity ; tijl, becoming so much decayed 
that it could no longer be kept together, a chair was 
made out of the planks, and presented to the university 
of Oxford, where it is now preserved in the museum. 

After this public testimony of royal approbation, envy 
and malice were obliged to hide their heads, and all 
ranks were zealous to congratulate sir Francis ; and he 
had a coat of arms assigned him, appropriate to his 
pursuits and his talents. 

With regard to the quantity of treasure amassed ia 
this successful enterj^rize, there are various opinions ; 
but, by the best accounts, it could not be less than a 
million sterling. As to the distribution, it appears that 
all parties were satisfied ; and the manner of his recep- 
tion gave a confirmation to the truth of the old maxim, 
that ^^ he who brings money brings his welcome with 
him.'' 

Having accompanied this naval hero round the globe,, 
the first commander that ever accomplished such a 
voyage (for Magellan was cut oiF before his return )j 
it will undoubtedly gratify juvenile curiosity to know 
his future destinies. 

In 1585 he was again called into action, as admiral j 
^f an expedition against the Spanish West* Indies ; \x\ 
which his usual success attended him. Two years 
after, he was sent to Lisbon : but receiving intelligence 
that the Spaniards were assembling a fleet at Cadiz to 
kivade England, he sailed into that port-^ and burnt 
ten thousand tons of shipping, exclusive of all the war* 
lUce stores. 

New successes gave rise to new honours. Next year 
he was appointed vice-admiral under lord Howard of 
Effingham ;. and distinguished himself against the 
Spanish armada, in such a manner as deserves the un- 
qualified praise of all posterity. General history re» 
cords the triumphs of our countrymen on this glorious 



srR FRANCIS DRAKE* 117 

occasion ; and on a transaction of such importance, the 
humbler duty of biography is sufficiently fulfilled -by 
referring to our national annals. 

The very name of Drake was now a shield to his so- 
vereign, and the terror of her foes. His merits were 
duly appreciated by the queen, and he was next di;^- 
patched with a squadron to assist in placing don An- 
tonio on the throne of Portugal. Here tlie event was 
not equal to the courage and talents employed in the 
^:pedition. Spain indeed was partially baiHed, but 
Ungland was little beneiited. Drake vv*as. not formed 
so much to co-operate with others, as to ex^ecute his 
ovm bold and original designs. 

The sun of glory v^hich had so long shon0 upon him 
with full lustre, was now verging to its decline. A for^ 
midable expedition against the Spanish- settlements was 
projected soon after tliis failure, in which Drake and 
his relation and first patron. Hawkins were appointed 
commanders. 

After an attack on the Canaries, in which they mis- 
carried, the fleet arrived before Porto Rico ; when, they 
held a council, and it was determined to make aa assault 
gn the ships m the harbour. The strength of the for- 
tifications rendered this attera^'>t also iVuitless, and sixr 
John Hawkins fell a victim to the climate. The very 
same evening, while die principal officers were at sup- 
per, a cannon-ball entering the cabin killed sir Nicholajs 
Cliffiord, mortally wounded another gentleman, <^nd 
carried av^^ay the stool on which sir Francis Drake wa$ 
seated. . Thus Fortune once more befriended him, 1?(^- 
fore she bade him a final adieu. 

After committing several depredations ii^ the«e seas, 
to the injury and vexation of the Spaniards,. they pro- 
ceeded on their grand design, which was to cross the 
isthmus of Panama ; but in this they were likewise 
foiled. 

Repeated disappointments, to which he had teen so^ 



118 SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

Kttle accustomed, preyed on the inind of Drake with 
such pungent force, that he fell into a melancholy ; in 
which state, being seized with the bloody flux, he quit- 
ted this life at Nombre de Dios, without leaving any 
children, in Januaiy 1596. 

In stature this accomplished seaman was loiv, but 
well set ; his chest was broad and open, his head very 
round, his eyes large and clear, his complexion fresli, 
Mx:id his w^hole countenance animated and engaging. 
In England iiis death was lamented with the sincerest 
demonstrations of sorrow; and his character for perse- 
verance and fortitude, for all that can exalt the hero and 
intrepid commander, w'as so firmly fixed in the hearts 
of his countrymen, that time can never tarnish his just 
laurels. Yet his defects as a man w^ere very consider- 
able ; and if he excelled most in his great qualities, he 
sunk beneath the mass of mankind in some essential 
characteristics of humanity. Impatient of control^ 
avaricious, and despotic, he was rather formed to excite 
fear than to attract regard. Untinctured with the libe- 
ral arts, except as far as they were connected with navi- 
gation (in which he stood unrivalled), he evinced none 
of those weaknesses which are an honour to our nature ; 
and lived without seeming to enjoy life, except when 
some successful enterprize shed the casual gleam of 
satisfaction on his heart. Favoured by the smiles of 
Fortune till he vainly fancied that he had chained the 
fickle goddess, he could not endure her frowns ; and 
has left a moral to posterity, " that a long series of un- 
interrupted prosperity seldom promotes the ultimate ^ 
Imppiness of a being so weak and frail as man/' 



(119) 
WILLIAM CECIL,' 

LORD BURLEIGH. 

Born 1520— Died 1598. 

From nth Henry VIII., to Wth ElizahtL 

IN a private station a good man may be estimable, 
but when raised to rank and power he becomes emi- 
nently meritorious. The more the sphere of his activity 
is enlarged, and the higher the summit from which his 
influence is felt, the greater are his glory and his utility. 
All those virtues and that wisdom which in privacy are, 
only calculated to win the applause of his own heart, 
or the veneration of a discerning few, then spread their 
delightful energies over a range worthy of their force 
and direction, promote the general welfare, and em- 
brace whatever is great or good. 

These reflections were suggested by contemplating 
the life of Cecil ; a man who, during the long space of 
forty years, and amidst many eventful scenes, was a 
principal minister of state, and directed the machine of 
government with a wise and steady aim. 

William Cecil was born at Bourn in Lincolnshire, 
the native place of his mother. His father wac Richard 
Cecil, esq. of Burleigh, in the county of Northampton ; 
principal officer of the robes to Henry the Eighth, and 
a distinguished favourite of that monarch. 
. Young Cecil imbibed the first rudiments of learning 
at the grammar-schools of Grantham and Stamford,. 
and gave early indications of those solid and shining. 
talents which were ta adorn his future life. His tiiirst 
for knowledge was excessive j and his father, willing 
to humour the bent of his mind, sent him when still a 
boy to St. John's-college Cambridge. Here intense 
application, united to a pregnant genius, soon procured 
him distinction in the literary caieer : but from c<.h> 
¥ 5 



120 WILLIAM CEClLy 

little attention to those springs by which the humam 
machine is kept in repair, and its faculties improved, he 
indulged his sedentary disposition to such an inordinate 
degree that he had nearly lost the use of his limbs ; 
and certainly laid the foundation of that tormenting 
disease the gout, which at intervals preyed on his con- 
stitution for life, and gradually sapped the feundation 
of his vital powers. 

Before he had completed his nineteenth year he left 
Cambridge, full of academic distinctions which he had 
richly merited ; and entered Gray's-inn, London, to pro- 
secute the study of the law as a profession. Here hi^ 
proficiency was as rapid as in the acquisition of general 
learning ; anci ft is probable that he might have risen 
to the height of juridical eminence, had not his better 
fortune called him to other pursuits still more adapted 
to his capacity and endowments. 

The point on which the success or miscarriage of 
men turns, is often influenced by such accidental cause$ 
as neither prudence can direct, nor any human foresight 
is able to anticipate. This position, which in itself, is 
liable to no contradiction, receives a forcible illustration 
from the incident by which Cecil rose to honour. 

Towards the close of the reign of Henry the Eighth, 
Cecil, being on a visit to his father at court, acci« 
dentally met two priests in the presence-chamber, chap- 
lains to the famous Irish chief O'Neal ; and by way 
of filling up the interval of waiting, feM into conversa- 
tion with them on theological subjects. A warm dis- 
pute ensued, which was carried on in Latin ; and so 
closely were the bigots of superstition pressed by the 
youthful advocate for the doctrines of the Reforma- 
tion, that they felt themselves overpowered, and burst 
from him in a paroxysm of rage. The advantage 
which Cecil had gained was immediaftely reported to 
the king ; who, being pleased to find a champion of the 
cause which he himself had espoused, ordered him intO' 



LORD BURLEIGH. 121 

his presence. Henry was so delighted with the young 
stranger's good sense and address, that he promised 
him the first vacant place at court, compatible with his 
views ; and In the mean time he was complimented 
with the reversion of the office of custos-brevium, or 
keeper of the briefs. About this remarkable period, on 
which his future fortune hung, he married a sister cf 
sir John Cheke ; who left him a Vv^dower with one soi\ 
in less than tWo years after their nuptials. Five years 
after, he espoused miss Mildred Cooke, daughter of 
sir Anthony Cooke, tutor to Edv/ard the Sixth ; a lady 
of itncominon merit and accomplishments. 

Being thus connected, by m.arrlage, v/ith two of the 
most distinguished scholars of the age ; and possessing 
In his wife not a rival, "but an associate, in study ; he 
was more ardently attached to literature than ever : 
but by no means to the neglect of the law, in which he 
became eminent ; though his access to court probably 
inspired him with more elevated expectations, which 
were afterwards abundantly gratiiied. 

On the accession of Edward the Sixtli he was w^rm* 
ly recom.mended to the lord -protector Somerset ; and 
successively rose, under this high patronage and the 
favour of his sovereign, to be master of requests, 
custos-rotulorum (or keeper of the ro31s) of Lincohi- 
shire, and one cf the principal secretaries of state. He 
also received the honour of knighthood, was sworn of 
the privy-council, and made chancellor of the order of 
the garter. 

But these honours did not flow upon him in an nn- 
interrupted stream. Though his good-fortune and 
good-sense always extricated him ffom difficulties, he 
experienced some of those reverses to which all public 
men are more or less obnoxious. 

As his elevation was principally owing to his muni- 
ficent patron Somerset, he was involved in that noble- 
man's destinies. He attended him in his expedition to 



122 WILLIAM CECIL, 

Scotland ; and at the battle of Musselburgh \ras only 
saved from inevitable destruction by the generous 
interposition of a friend, who pushed him out of 
the level of a cannon, and had his own arm sliattered 
by the ball which must otherwise have passed through 
CeciPs body. 

When the protector was obliged to give way to the 
intrigues of a powerful army, Cecil was also committed 
to tlie Tower, where he remained three months ; but the 
young king, who seems to have entertained a warm 
aifection for him, soon obliterated this disgrace by nevf 
honours. The destruction of his first patron, however, 
appearing inevitable, and th-e duke of NorthuJiiberland 
rapidly augmenting hrs own power and influence, Cecli 
was thrown into the most distressing perplexity how to 
avoid the storm without incurring the disgrace of ingra- 
titude. By some, who are n© friends to his memory, it 
is said that, with die wariness of a politician and the 
easy tergiversation of a courtier, he strengthened his 
own interest by espousing ths strongest cause ; but this 
assertion rests on no substantial grounds. He was pru- 
dent and circumspect^ but nothing more. His answer 
to Somerset, who expressed his apprehension of some 
evil design against him, is dignified in the extreme^ 
though it may appear cool to such a benefactor : " If 
fou are not in fault," said he, " you may trust to your 
innocence ; if you are, I have nothing to say but to la- 
ment you.'* 

Having strenuously opposed, at the council-board, 
the resolution for changing the succession of the crown 
in favour of lady Jane Grey, though as privy-coun- 
sellor he witnessed it as the act and deed of the king,^ 
Mary was so much pleased with his behaviour, that 
soon after her accession she granted him a general par- 
don ; and made him a tender of the office of secretary 
and counsellor, provided he would embrace tlie catho- 
lic xe],igioxi. But Cecil, whose attachment to the Re- 





Drake 



-Alfred 




Shakespeare 




Kaleigli 





^^<^oii TiUotson 



LORD BURLEIGH. 123 

formation was founded on principle, and who seems to 
have been sincerely pious, after thanking her majest>-, 
and professing his zeal for her service as flir as con- 
science would allow, requested her indulgence to with- 
draw from the public councils, and to lead a life of pri- 
vacy and content. Among other expressions which he 
used on this occasion, the following deserves to be re* 
membered : " that he was taught and bomid to serve 
God first, and n^xt his sovereign ; but if her service 
should put him out of God*s service, he hoped her ma- 
jesty would give him leave to choose an everlasting 
rather than a temporary reward.'-^ 

This fi-eedom in a man of such an established' ch^- 
racter for probity and wisdom, did not oifend.. The 
queen still treated sir Vviliiam Cecil very graciously ; 
and her ministers were sometimes glad to avail them- 
selves of his political sagacity, by asking his advice. 
With all their bigotry, they were obliged to own that 
good-sense and talents are of no particular religion ; and 
this reputed heretic was frequently made the oracle of 
their decisions. Yet Cecil prudently forbore to^step 
forward farther than he was absolutely compelled. " He 
was satisfied with attending his duty in parhament as ar 
representative for the coimty of Lincoln, in which cha- 
racter he avowed his sentiments with manly freedom ; 
and, which shews his exalted reputation, he was never 
molested for either his religious or political opinions. 
Indeed he was highly respected by cardinal Pole ; and 
had been deputed in the commencement of Mary's reign 
to conduct that exalted personage to England fro^m 
Brussels. 

The virtues and talents of Cecil had been matured, 
not blighted, m the shade; and when Elizabeth mount- 
ed the throne, he was immediately called into action 
with happier omens, and appointed secretary of state. 
In this capacity his tried prudence and address were 
essentially necessary to heal the wounds vv^hich the \%. 



12* WIELIAM CECIL, 

formation Had received ; and to emancipate the nation, 
without sanguinary measures, from the chains of Rome. 
By CeciPs advice, a conference was held in Westmiti- 
ster-church between the most eminent divines of both 
persuasions ; and soon afterwards that form of worship 
was resolved upon, which has ever since been the reli- 
gious establishment of the church of England. 

Having settled ecclesiastical affairs on a solid basis, 
his next care was to compose his country's jarring inte- 
rests, and to strengthen its internal and foreign relations : 
but in these great points history can alone do full justice 
to his various merits, and biography must be satisfied 
with briefly narrating the prominent passages of his life. 
In 1560 he was made master of the wards ; and the 
same year was sent to negotiate a peace between Eng- 
land, Scotland, and France. After the business, how- 
ever, had been brought to a successful termination by 
the plenipotentiaries, the French court refused to ratify 
the treaty, and the whole fell to the ground. 

Though in the fall possession of his royal mistress's 
confidence, and universally respected as a man of supe- 
rior political abilities, 'he had, as usual, to contend 
against jealousy and opposition : and the favourite and 
powerful Leicester, in order to strengthen his influence, 
putting himself at the head of the popish faction, which 
still was rather depressed than annihilated, Cecil, not- 
withstanding ail his address, must inevitably have lost 
his station, and perhaps his life, had he not been firmly 
supported by Russel earl of Bedford and sir Nicholas 
Bacon. The latter was a man of congenial mind and 
talents, 'uid the affection between him and the minister 
seems to have been almost fraternal. 

But, though the secretary was thus rendered too pow- 
erful for his public enemies, he had almost fallen a vic- 
tim to his private ones. The dark intrigues that were 
formed against him are too numerous to be here re^ 
counted, and too disgraceful to be preserved. On one 



LORD BURLEIGH. 125 

Gccasion, he escaped assassination by slipping down the 
back-stairs while a villain waited at the foot of the 
great staircase to dispatch him ; on another, the hired 
rufHan who was to murder him,, after gaining admission 
to his chamber, and grasping the instrument of death 
to strike, was stung with remorse, and shrunk from the 
perpetration of the deed. 

Elizabeth, though she studied to balance the power 
and influence of her favcarites and ministers, was not of 
a temper to be overawed by a faction ; arid beholding 
the prevalence of Leicester's party with some emotion, 
and their insidious arts against Cecil (her most sage and 
confidential adviser), she gave him a signal mark of her 
favour which was rare in those days, in raising him to 
the peerage by the style and title of lord Burleigh ; and 
soon after appointed him lord-high-treasurer. 

The object of royal favour is sore, like a focus, to con- 
centrate the rays of public regard. The most virulent 
of Burleigh's form-er opponents were now an>:ous to ob- 
tiiin a claim to his friendship, and courted the man 
with the humblest assiduities whom they had before 
plotted to assasshiate. Such is the petty and despica- 
ble course of political manoeuvre, and so little depend- 
ance is to be placed on the smiles or the frowns of a 
party. 

The interest of Burleigh had now become too strong 
to be shaken ; and it must be recorded to his honour, 
that he uniformly exerted it for the service of his sove- 
reign, and the w^elfare of his country. 

When Mary queen of Scots became a prisoner by 
the cruel policy of her rival Ehzabeth, Cecil advised and 
practised lenient measures, as best adapted to the object 
in view : but when he fpund that infatuated princess 
engage In repeated conspiracies, perhaps rather to re- 
gain her own independance than to overthrow the go- 
veniment of Elizabeth ; wheivhe was satisfied by long 
experience that the popr^h faction, v/hich regarded Mary 



126 WILLIAM CECIL5, 

as Its head, would never cease to plot and to undermine 
till he was removed from the stage of life; he yielded 
to the pressure of circumstances, and acted (or thought 
he acted) politically right, though no doubt morr.lly 
wrong. In short, he felt it his duty to give his sanction 
to her trial, condemnation, and execution : but with a 
sense of honour which his mistress did not possess, he 
avowed the necessity of the measure ; and did not 
meanly attempt to shelter hin^^self behind a battery of 
hypocrisy, which Elizabeth played off only to render 
herself still more criminal and contemptible. He re- 
monstrated with her against the' disgrace of Davidson, 
who was the innocent agent of Mary'vS execution j and 
throughout preserved that consistency of character 
which might have been expected from his approved 
wisdom, and unvarying rectitude. 

For some time he frustrated all the attempts of the 
court of Spain ; whose machinations against England 
were justly suspected to have for their object the resto- 
ration- of Mary to her kingdom, and the overthrow of 
the protestant religion ; and when the execution of that 
unhappy queett put an end to the former part of the de- 
sign, vengeance for her deatli stimulated the court of 
Madrid to make m.ore formidable preparations than 
ever, while the thunder of the Vatican wiis summoned 
to aid the arms of infuriate bigotry. 

Lord Burleigh however, with that foresight for 
which he was. remarkable, though he could no longer 
prevent the storm from bursting, had by the most4)er- 
severing industry provided against its fatal effects. 
Availing himself of a ten years peace, he had put the: 
kingdom into such a posture of dei^nce, and had so \ 
thoroughly discovered the conspiracies of domestic 
traitors, that no event could come unexpected, or unpro- 
vided for. The naval force had been increased to an> j: 
extent hitherto unknown ; men of tried courage and j 
experience were promoted to the command ; imd these | 



LORD BURLEIGIT. 127 

causes co-opemting with the bravery of the English m. 
defence of then- religion, liberty, and homes, the re- 
doubtable armada soon ceased to be an object of terror, 
and victory and independance triumphed on its ruins. 

Happy in the undiminished favour of his sovereign, 
liappy in the signal defeat of her enemies and in tl>e 
f onfidence of the nation, this period may be considered 
as the most glorious in the life of Burleigh ; but, as it to 
shew that human felicity is neither permanent nor 
secure, he soon after met with a severe affliction in the 
loss of his lady, with whom he had lived in the closest 
bands of affection for the long space of forty-three years, 
and whose death cast a gloom over tlie remainder of 
his days. Lady Burleigh was not only amiable in 
every domestic relation, but in all respects was an exam- 
ple and ornament to her sex. With learning and en- 
dowments almost more than masculine, she cultivated 
every feminine art that could improve youthful love 
into the most ardent and unalterable esteem. Her hus- 
band himself, falling into the vale of years, felt all the 
poignancy of lacerated affection ; his constitution gave 
way to the shock, and public business became almost 
insupportable to him. 

Being exhausted with incessant application^ and no 
longer cheered with domestic regard, he earnestly soli- 
cited permission t<) resign all his employments ; but the 
queen, fully sensible of the value of his services, encou- 
raged him, by the most consoling attentions, to conti- 
nue to be the principal manager of her affairs. She 
frequently visited hnn ; and omitted no opportunity of 
soothing tlie languor of his declining age, and of flat- 
tering it by every demonstration of regard. Her pains 
were abundantly rewarded. The hoary statesman was 
roused to exert his accumulated wisdom for the public 
weal ; and accordingly, during the last ten years of his 
life, he displayed on various impojtant occasions all the- 
xcal and vigour of unbroken youth. By his advice, the 



128 WILLIAM CEClt, 

university of Dublin was founded ;. and no measute was- 
concerted in the various departments of government, 
without the counsel and approbation of Burlergh. He 
was prime-minister in the most extensive sense of the 
word ; and the ability, accuracy, and dispatch, which 
>lie evinced only a short time before his death,, could 
scarcely be exceeded at the most active period of his" 
life. 

^ " To him,'* says one of his biographers, •* all ranks 
addressed themselves,- to the very laj^t. The bishops 
and clergy for preferment 5 tlie puritans for favourable 
treatment, and relief from ecclesiastical oppression 5 fu-- 
gitives in foreign countries for pardon, which he granted- 
m consideration of their useful intelligence respecting 
the designs of the nations among whom they sojourned ; 
the lieutenants of counties fix instructions and advice ; 
die admirals for fleets and supplies ^ in a word, the in- 
terests of tlie state abroad, and its domestic tranquillity 
at home, were provided for and preserved by this ac- 
complished statesman, to his final hour." 

But no honours or distinctions can ward off the stroke 
©f fate. Age advanced, with all its train of ills ; and 
though his dissolution was slow, and the gradations easy, 
after langui^shing two or three months he paid the debt 
ef nature, on the ^th of August 1598,. 

" Novv'," to use the quaint but energetic v/ords of 
tlie same writer from whom the foregoing extract was 
made, " might one see the whole world mourning : the 
queen for an old and true servant; the council for a 
wise and grave counsellor ; the court for their ho- 
nourable benefactor; his country and the common- 
wealth trembling, as it were at one blow to have their 
head stricken off; the people, v/idows, and v/ards, la* 
menting to lose their protector;. Religion, her patron ; 
Justice, her true minister; and Peace, her upholder; his 
children bewailing the loss of such a father ; his friends, 
g£ such a friend V and his servants of such a n>aster : all 



LORD BURXEIGH. 129 

men rather bewailing his loss, than hoping ever to find 
such another. Yea his very enemies did nov/ sorrow 
for his deatli, and wish him alive again/' 

In person, Burleigh was rather well-proportioned 
than tall ; he was very erect till bent by the infirmities 
of age, and extremely active and alert in ail his mo- 
tions* 

Viewed in every possible ligh\t, his character rises on 
our esteem* To the purest patriotism he united such a 
capacity for business as is seldom equalled. In his pri- 
vate affairs he was frugal rather than avaricious ; and 
though he left a good estate, it was raised by no mean- 
ness. ' It descended to his two sons ; who were both 
ennobled, and whose posterity still continue v/lth an in- 
crease of honours. In public expenditure he Vvras a rigid 
economist ; and when compared in this respect with the 
most celebrated statesmen of modern times, his inesti- 
mable worth is the more plainly discovered. He aevet 
suffered the wealth pf the nation to be exhausted for 
sinister ends, or diverted to v/rong purposes. To uphold 
the honour and defence of the government, was the sole 
object which he proposed in raising supplies ; and what 
was levied from the necessities or the superabundance 
of the people, he took care to apply for their honour 
and advantage. No parasite was gratified with a pen- 
sion, no venal supporter of his power with a bribe. It 
was a maxim with him, that when the treasury grew too 
great, the rest of the national body languished and 
pined away ; he therefore wisely considered private 
opulence as the surest wealth of the state, and v/as accus- 
tomed to declare " that nothing is for a prince's profit 
which is not for his honour also.'* 

His character as drawn by Cambden, who sav\' his 
meridian and his setting hour, is worthy of a place here : 
" Having lived long enough to nature," says that able 
historian, " and long enough to his own glory, but net 
lQj?g enough to his country, he resigned his soul to* 



130 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 

God with so much peace and tranquillity, tliat the 
greatest enemy he had freely declared, he envied him 
notjimg but that his sun went down with so much lus- 
tre. Certainly he was a most excellent man ; for he 
was so liberally furnished by nature, and so polished 
and adorned with learning and education, that every 
way, for honesty, gravity, temperance, industry, and 
justice, he was a most accomplished person. He had 
ah easy and flowing eloquence ; which consisted not in 
a pomp and ostentation of words, but in a masculine 
plainness and significancy of sense. He was a master 
of prudence formed on experience, and regulated by 
temper and moderation. His loyalty was true, and 
w^ould endure the touch ; and was only exceeded by his 
piety, which indeed was eminently great. To sum up 
all in a word, the queen was happy in so great a coun- 
sellor, and the state of England for ever indebted to him 
for his sage and prudent counsel. He was one who 
lived and died with equal glory ; and while others re- 
gard him with admiration, I am rather inclined to eon- 
template him with the sacred applause of silent venera* 
tion.'' 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, 

THE PRINCE OF DRAMATIC POETS, 

Born 1564.— Died 1613. 

Frofn 6lh Ellzaheth io IQih James L 

THOUGH tlie lives of poets in general are less in- 
structive than their writings, and the eccentricities of 
genius frequently furtfish as much to lament as to ad- 
mire, yet there seems to be no just reason why the 
highest intellectual endowments, and thp warmest poetic 
inspiration, should not be coupled with judgement and 



kXt.i.. 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. ISl 

with prudence : and the union produce its natural 
fruits ; honour, independance^ and happiness. 

An illustrious proof of the most glowing energies of 
mind, connected with a general though not undeviating 
observance of those prudential maxims by which tho 
mass of men direct their conduct, will be supplied hj 
contemplating the life of Shakspeare; the immartal 
poet of nature, the glory of his country and his age. 

Stratford-upon-Avon had the honour to produce this 
prodigy of dramatic genius ; and, in consequence, wIH 
ever be hallowed as classic groimd. His father \vas a 
considerable wool-stapler, and it appears that his con- 
nections in, general ranked with the gentry of the place; 
but a large family of ten children, of whom our poet 
was the eldest, proved an Incumbrance that must have 
been very sensibly felt. Consequently the education of 
young Shakspeare, though by no means neglected, was 
confined to w^hat the grammar-school of his native tow^a 
could supply. What progress he made there, what in- 
dications he gave of his future celebrity, are wholly un- 
known ; but as genius is a gift of nature, and cannot be 
acquired, it is probable that he early " warbled his 
wood-noteg wild," though unnoticed by the dim eye 
and unheard by the dull ear of common men. The 
fancy of Shakspeare was unquestionably pluming its in^ 
fant wing, even amidst the most ordinary avocations ; 
and his soul darting into distant scenes of glory and of 
fame^ though the path was yet untraced by which he 
reached them. 

After a few years of attendance on scholastic instruct 
tion, in which it is evident that he acquired a complete 
acquaintance with his native idiom, and was at least 
initiated into the Roman tongue, the slender finances of 
his father, and the w^ant of assistance at home, occa* 
sioned his early application to business. To make him 
an accomplished scholar, seems to have been no part of 
his father's design ; and it is now too late to discover 



132 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 

whether the son shewed any particular predilection to 
general study, or aversion to mercantile engagements. 

It is certain that while he w^as still very young, he 
contracted a marriage with a lady of the name of Hath^ 
way, daughter of a substantial yeoman in the vicinity; 
and became a fatlier before he reached the age of matu- 
rity. Having taken upon him the charge of a family 
before it can be expected that his juvenile years could 
have taught him prudence, or given him any considera- 
ble experience in life, his behaviour in this important 
character was probably not marked with the requisite 
economy or attention. That he pursued his father's 
trade as the means of a subsistence, 5eems jto be pretty 
well ascertained ; but his success and reputation can only 
be judged from the incident which, however disgrace- 
ful in itself, necessarily gave a new direction to his 
talents, and tlius fortunately called forth that latent 
spark of genius which might otherwise have been smo- 
thered for ever. 

There is a tradition that Shakspeare was of a very 
gay and convivial disposition ; and if we reflect on the 
warmth of imagination which is so conspicuous in hk 
compositions, we can have little reason to doubt the 
truth of this report. The same impetuosity and energy 
of mind which have rendered him the delight and admi- 
ration of all posterity, unquestionably displayed them- 
selves, before he had reached the maturity of reason, in 
frolicsome excesses of conduct, and unguarded sallies 
of wnt. 

Without the society of one congenial soul to cherish 
his native genius, or draw fortli his shining qualities, it 
is not to be wondered that he associated with the giddy 
and the thoughtless ; and, in the hilarity of his compa- 
nions, forgot their grossness and their depravity. The 
fervid and aspiring mind can seldom repose in harmless 
iimctivity : if its powers are net directed by patronage 
or example to some w^orthy object, they will probably 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 133 

become conspicuous only for more flagrant dereliction 
of established modes, and greater ingenuity in vicious 
refinements. 

Shakspeare's associates were not only gay, but crimi- 
nal. Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecot, near Stratford, 
whose descendants still suppoit an honourable rank in 
.life, had a deer park, which was frequently rpbbed by 
'these unruly youths. In whatever design our poet en- 
gaged, he was qualified to be a leader; and being de- 
tected in the depredations of his gang, he was prosecuted 
with some severity. Instead, however, of asking pardon 
for his offence, he heightened it by a most satirical bal- 
lad ; which so provoked the knight, that he felt himself 
justified in giving a loose to the vengeance of the law : 
and Shakspeare was in consequence obliged to relin- 
quish his business and his home, and to take shelter in 
London. This gentleman, who was thus the cause of 
his original disgrace, yet the accidental maker of his fu- 
ture fortune, .he afterwards ridiculed under the well- 
known character of Justice Shallow. 

Being now cast on the wide world, v/ith only wit for 
his portion, it was natural for him to turn his thoughts 
towards the stage, and to court the society of the players. 
By a fatality for which It is impossible to account, the 
•same fortune tl:iat seemed to have shipwrecked all his 
hopes, carried him into a safe port to refit, and then 
launched him on his proper element. But the pace with 
-which he mounted to eminence was slow. In those 
.days, gentlemen commonly rode to the play : and it is 
said that he was at first glad to take care of their horses, 
during the time of the performance ; and that even in 
this humble station he soon became distinguished, and 
was enabled by the increase of his business to engage 
a number of boys as his assistants. By this means he 
got a little money; and having gradually insinuated 
himself into the favour of some of the players, he was 
found to possess such an admirable fund of wit and 
1 



1S4 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARIJ. 

humour, that they readily incited him to make an at» 
tempt on the stage. His celebrity as an actor, how- 
ever, was not gi*eat. It appears that he had only 
very subordinate characters assigned him ; and that the 
most considerable one he ever performed, was the 
Gho6t in his own play of Hamlet* 

But though Nature did not form him to shine as a 
first-rate actor, she had moulded and endowed him for 
somretliing far superior. Being now acquainted witk 
the business of the theatre, he was animated v/ith a de- 
sire of signalizing himself as a writer; and that he did 
not mistake his genius, the concurring testimony of 
every judge, the plaudits of his contemporaries, and 
the still increasing admiration of mankind, incontesta- 
bly evince. 

Though it is impossible t^ trace with precision his 
first essay, it appears that the Midsummer-night's 
Dream was one of his earliest productions, andTwelth 
Night the last ; all die thirty-five plays which have 
been ascribed to liim, having made their appearance 
between the years 15S9 and IGH. The number of 
editions which they have since passed through ; and the 
pains which our ablest critics and commentators have 
taken to restore the genuine text, and to illustrate the 
jnost trivial obscurity of diction or of sentiment ; prove 
how highly Shakspeare ranks as an English classic. 
Nor is his fame, indeed, confined to this island, or to 
•tliose who are acquainted with our language : almost 
every nation of Europe has an opportunity of reading 
him in its own tongue ; and his fame- reaches to the 
utmost confines of the reign of taste, civilization, and 
literature. 

Though the genius of our great dramatic wiiter 
burst into a flame at once, it acquh-ed new^ accessions 
of purity and resplendency by habits of wn^iting, and- 
a longer intercourse with m.ankind. Possessing au 
almost intuitive knowledge of the characters of men j 



■i^i^aiiL'ix' 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 135 

an imagination that ranged through all nature, select- 
ing the sublime, the beautiful, and the agreeable ; * a 
judgment that inclined him to adopt plots which had 
already been found to please; and an uncommon 
fluency and vigour of expression ; it cannot be won- 
dered at that he gradually eclipsed all who had pre- 
ceded him, and left his successors in despair of ever 
reaching his excellences. 

Queen Elizabeth, who possessed a real taste for lite- 
rature herself, had several of his plays acted before 
her ; and even first suggested the idea, of continuing 
the character of FalstafF (which had already been 
twice introduced) through another play, that he might 
be represented in love. This hint Shakspeare adopted, 
and the Merry. Wives of Windsor was the produce of 
his solicitude thus to gratify his sovereign. 

To wit, fancy, and unbounded genius, Shakspeare 
added sweetness of dlsposiilon, and pleasantness of 
maniiers. He was the agreeable companion, and 
the valuable friend ; and his demeanour being im- 
proved by an acquaintance with the finestr models of 
his Ume'j he was courted by the great, and honoured 
by the good. 

Besides the royal patronage, the earl of Southamp. 
ton is known to have treated him with the most flatter- 
ing distinction : and from this Mecenas I|e received 
some solid marks of favour, which give a -very high 
idea of the estimation in which the poet was held, and 
the munificence of his patron. A gift of one thousand 
pounds, to enable him to complete a desirable pur« 
chase, is a proof of llberalLty Vvhich is seldom equalled 
at the present day by those who pretend to honour 
genius. 

BtU, after all, it Is to that part of Shakspeare's cha- 
racter in which his prudence and his love of indepen- 
dance are displayed, that the attention of young read- 
ers should bsJ more particularly called. Havii)?-, bv 

Q 



136 WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 

his writings, his interest in the theatre, and his gw^ 
good conduct, acquired a decent competence, he had 
the good sense to determine to enjoy it ; and leaving at 
once the stage on which he had raised his fortune, and 
the busy scene of the world, he retired to his native 
Stratford, and lived in a handsome house w^iich he 
had purchased, endeared to his intimate friends, and 
respected by the gentlemen in the neighbourhood. 

Whatever imprudences might be charged on his 
juvenile years, his mature and declining age atoned 
for them all. The commencement <)f his acquaintance 
with Ben Jonson shews his taste and his candour in a 
high degree, and exemplifies by a single stroke the 
promiinent qualities of his heart. That learned and 
able dram.atic writer had presented a play to tlie mana- 
gers, who were on the point of retuiTiing it- with an 
unfavourable ansvs'er ; v^'hen Shakspeare luckily casting 
his eye Upon it, had the penetration to discover its 
merit, and was generous enough to introduce Jonson 
and his writings to public notice and approbation. 

After Im had retired from the busier scenes of life, 
he 'v\^sely conformed to his situation ; and instead of 
disgusting infe ior minds by the claims of superiority, 
adapted himself to the level of common men* Among 
his particular acquaintances was an old gentleman 
named Combe ; extremely opulent, avaricious, and 
usurious. In a free conversation, he desired our poet 
to write his epitaph, that he might know what his^ 
posthumous character vrould be. Shakspeare drew a 
ludicrous but a severe picture, in four Hnes, the poi'- 
gnancy of which was never forgiven ; and indeed a man. 
less acquainted with life, than he who had traced all 
its mazes, might have known that often "'tis the truth 
whicli gives offence.'* 

- Finding his health on the decline, Shakspeare made 
his will m tire beginning of the year 1616 : and having 
provided for his family, and left seme memorials of 



_WILLIA?vI SHAK!5PEARS. 137 

his regard to his former associates of the stage, he 
departed this h'fe in April of the same year ; and was 
interred on the north side of the chancel in the church 
of Stratford, where a jnonument with his bust was 
erected to his memory, on which the following distich 
is inscribed : 

Judlcio Pyllum, geuio Socratem, arte Maronem; 
Terra tegit, populus moeret, Olympus habet. 

On the slab which covers his remains are these Haes, 
generally believed to be written by himself: 

Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear 
To dig the dust inclosed here. 
Blest be the man that spares these stones ; 
And curst be he that moves my bones ! 

A studious life seldom presents many memorable 
incidents ; and of the private habits of Shakspeare in 
particular, very little is handed down to posterity. 
He met indeed w4th few vicissitudes : a single accident 
forced him to become the architect; of his own fortune ; 
by gradual efforts he rose to eminence of fame, and 
competency of fortune ; and no sooner had he ac- 
quired these, than he wisely retired to the tranquil 
enjoyment of what his genius and his industry had 
earned. Hence few occurrences swell ths annals of 
his peaceful days. 

Shakspeare left two daughters, but his family became 
extinct in the third generatign. Some collateral de- 
scendants still, or did lately, remain at Stratford ; and, 
as may be justly imagined, not a little proud of such 
an illustrious kinsman. His mulberry-tree and chair 
v/ere long the objects of veneration, and were visited 
by his admirers as the most precious relics : but even 
these have now disappeared ; and his torpb alone re^ 
mains, w^here admirers can pay the homage of a tear. 

As a dramatic writer, in which point of view he 
,iw>ncentrates universal regard, his character has been 
G 2 



138 WILLIAM SHAK5PEARE- 

often drawn ; but by none with siich vigour and Just- 
ness as by Dr. Johnson, whose sentiments m^iy be 
adopted without limitation or reserve. They bear the 
stamp of truth, and carry conviction to the heart. 
^« Shakspeare," he says, " is above all writers, at least 
above all modern writers, the poet of nature ; the poet 
that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of man- 
ners and of life. . His characters are not modified by the 
customs of particular places, unpractised by the rest of 
tine world ; by the peculiarities of studies or professions 
which can operate but upon small numbers ; or by the 
accident of transient fashions, or temporary opinions : 
they are the genuine progeny of common humanity ; 
such as the world will always supply, and observation 
will always find. His persons act and speak by the in- 
fluenceof those general passions and principles by which 
all minds are agitated, and the whole system of life is 
continued in motion. In the writings of other poets, 
a character is too often an individual ; in those of Shak- 
speare, it is com.monly a species. 

« It is from this wide extension of design, that so 
much instruction is derived. It is this which fills the 
plays of Shakspeare v/lth practical axioms and domestic 
wisdom. It was said of Euripides, that every verse 
was a precept ; and it may be said of Shakspeare, that 
from his works may be collected a system of civil and 
economical prudence. Yet his real power is not shewn 
in the splendour of particular passages, but by the pro- 
gress of his fable, and the tenor of his dialogue^ and 
he that tries to recommend him by select quotations, 
will succeed like the pedant^ in HierocleS, who, when he 
offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his pocket 
as a specimen. Upon every other stage the universal 
5igent is love ; by v/hose pov/er all good and evil is dis- 
tributed, and every action quickened or retarded. But 
love is only one of inany passions ; and as It has no 
great influence upon the sum of life, it has little opera- 



WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 139 

tion in the dramas of a poet who caught his ideas from 
the living world, and exhibited only what he saw before 
him. He knew that any other passion, as it was regu- 
lar or exorbitant, was a cause of happiness or calamity. 

" Characters thus ample and general were not easily 
discriminated and preserved, yet perhaps no poet ever 
kept his personages more distinct from each other. 

" Other dramatists can only gain attention by hyper- 
bolical or aggravated clraracters, by fabulous and unex- 
ampled excellence or depravity, as the writers of bar- 
barous romance ' invigorated the reader by a giant and 
a dwarf; and he that should form his expectations of 
human afiairs from the play or from the tales, would 
be equally deceived. Shakspeare has no heroes : his 
scenes are occupied only by men, w^ho act and speak 
as the reader thinks that he should him.self have spoken 
or acted on the same occasion ; even where the agency 
is supernatural, the dialogue is level with life. Other 
writers disguise the most natural passions, and most 
frequent incidents ; so that he wlio contemplates them 
in the book, will not know them in the: v/orld, Shak- 
speare approximates the remote, and familiarizes the 
wonderful : the event which he represents will not hap- 
pen ; but if it were possible, its effects would probably ' 
be such as he has assigned : and it may be said that he 
has not only shewn human nature as it acts in real exi- 
gences, but as it would be found in trials to v/hkh it 
cannot be exposed. 

<' This therefore is the praise of Shakspeare : that 
his drama is the mirror of life ; that he who has mazed 
his imagination in following the phantoms which other 
writers raise before him, may here be cured of his de- 
lirious ecstasies, by reading human sentiments in human 
language -, by scenes from which a hermit may esti- 
mate the transactions of the world, and a confessor 
predict the progress of the passions.'* 



( 140 ) 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

Born 1552— Beheaded 1618. 
From 5th EJivard VL^ to \5th James L 



-Who can speak 



The numerous worthies of the maiden-reign ? 

In Raleigh mark their every glory mix*ci*. 

Raleigh, the scourge of Spain! whose breast witk^aU 

The sage, the patriot, and the hero, burn'd. 

Nor 6unk his vigour when a coward-reign, 

The warrior fetterM^ and at last resign*d 

To glut the vengeance of a vanquished foe. 

Then active still and unrestrained, his mind 

Hxplor'd the vast extent of ages past, 

And with his prison- hours enrich'd the world; , 

Yet found no times, in all the loi>g research, 

So glorious or so base as those he prov'd, 

In which he conquer'd and in which he bled. 

Thomson^ 

TI-IIS immortal ornament of his country, whose 
brief character is so well delineated by the poet in the 
above passage, was descended from an ancient and re- 
spectable family in Devon, and born at Budley in the~j 
sam^e county. Though he occupies such an ample 
and honourable space in the annals of our country, yet 
no incidents of his early days have been transmitted to 
an admiring posterity. It may, however, evince- the 
maturity of his parts, that he had acquired a sufficient j 
stock of grammatical learning Ky the time of com- 
pletlng his fourteenth year ; when he was removed to j 
the university of Oxford, and entered a gentleman- 
commoner of Oriel-college. In this situation it was 
not long before he distinguished himself by the strength'" ] 
and vivacity of his genius, and his uncomimon progress 
in academical learning. But though qualified to shine 
in the schools, the bent of his disposition led him to j 
more active pursuits \ and when he was no more than 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH- 141 

seventeen years old, he enlisted in a corps of gentle- 
men, volunteers destined to recruit the Hugunot army 
in France, and commanded by the gallant Coligny. 
Here he not only initiated himself in the art of war, 
but acquired a knowledge of the fashionable modern 
languages ; and after six years spent on the continent, 
returned to London with every accomplishment that 
adorns the character of a gentleman. 

Ke now took up his residence in the Middle Temple, 
but the muses here engrossed all his attention. Still, 
however, intent on military glory, he embraced the first 
opportunity which presented itself of resuming the pro- 
fession of arms ; and after the lapse of three years, joined 
the prince of Orange, who was then fighting against 
the Spaniards. The following year, he attended his 
half-brother, sir Humphrey Gilbert, on an unsuccess- 
ful expedition to the northern parts of America : and 
in 1580 appears serving as a captain against the rebel- 
lious Irish ; where he quickly made^ himself conspicu- 
ous by his intrepid spirit, his generous humanity, and 
his presence of mind in the greatest dangers. In a 
word, so eminent were his abilities and services, that he 
received a grant from the crown of a large estate in 
that kingdom ; but was prevented from rising in his 
profession by an unhappy misunderstanding between 
him and the lord-lieutenant, which was at last heard 
and adjusted before the privy-council. Gn tliis occa- 
sion Raleigh defended his cause with such -eloquence 
and address, that what was likeTy to ruin his interest, 
proved the very me.ans of recommending him to the 
notice of the court. A contest with a superior, how- 
ever just, seldom fails to bring obloquy and disgrace ; 
but in the case of Raleigh fortune determined other. 
wise. He only wanted a proper theatre on which to 
display his abilities : he gained that of a court, and 
succeeded. . ' 

But the cmiles of ministers were net sufKeient to sa- 



142 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

tisfy his soaring ambition. He aspired to the favour . 
of his sovereign, and it was not long before fortane 
essentially befnended him in this respect. The queen, 
taking the air, happened to come to a miin^ place, and 
vras hesitating whether she should proceed or no : when 
Raleigh, who probably was on the watch to win a 
smile of royal regard, immediately divested himself of 
a handsome plush cloalc, and spread it on the ground ; 
and the queen, gently treading on it, passed over safe 
and clean. So much gallantry from a man whose ad- 
dress, per.9on, and wit, were alike calculated to strike, 
could scarcely fail to make an impression on Elizabeth, 
With a vanity natural to v/omen, she construed every 
compliment into a proof of partial affection ; and by 
converting her courtiers into lovers, she was served 
with a zeal and fidelity which neither rank, power, nor 
munificenc'e, could singly, or even collectively, have 
otiierwise won. 

Soon after this adventure, Raleigh appeared at court; 
and meeting with a reception which seemed to flatter 
his hopes, as a farther exposition of his mind he wrote 
with a dian^nd, on a pane ^ glass, the following line : 

" Fain would I climb, yet fear I to fali ; 

which Elizabeth elegantly converted into a couplet, by 
adding, 

« If thy heart fail thee, climb not at all." 

Raleigh was too quick of apprehension not to inter- 
pret this poetic challenge. He saw it was his own fault 
if he did not rise ; and after obtaining a proper intro- 
duction, his own merit was ^sufficient to accomplish the 
rest. 

But no court favour> no employment where he could 
have rivals in his fame, was adapted to the aspiring 
genius of Raleigh. Even the botmds of Europe were 
too limited for his capacious mind. He longed to slg. 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH* 143 

nalize himself bv discoveries in the New World ; the 
common field where daring spirits at that time dis- 
played their talents, or sought their fortune. Accord- 
ingly he made several voyages to the continent of Ame- 
rica ; where he settled a colony named Virginia,, in ho- 
nour of his virgin mistress. The chief produce of this 
province being tobacco, Raleigh was studious to intro- 
duce it as a luxury, while Ehzabeth patronized its use 
as' an article of commerce. To him too we are indebted 
for the most valuable root which Providence, in its 
bounty, has bestowed on man : the potatoe was one 
fruit of his discoveries in this track, though it does not 
appear that he was at first acquainted wkh its real va- 
lue. It is generally believed, that being obliged to 
touch on the coast of Ireland in one of his homeward- 
bound voyages, he left some of the roots there : which, 
being cultivated with success, by degrees spread over 
the three kingdoms ; and now constitute a principal re- 
lief to th^ poor, and a most agreeable luxury to the 
rich. 

But though Raleigh was at gre?ct pains to colonize 
Virginia, the settlem.ent v/as afterwards abandoned ; and 
the sagacity of Raleigh discovered the cause. Virginia 
afforded no means of imm.ediate profit or emolument ' 
to government, and therefore was finally neglected. 
This gave him the idea of settling a new • colony in 
another part of Am. erica ; which might at once be pro- 
ductive of advantage, and enable his countrymen ta 
transfer the richest products of America to England; 
if they possessed sufficient courage to embark in the 
design. 

To accomplish this magnificent purpose, he made the 
most minute inquiries into the state of Guiana. From 
books and papers he drew all the assistance that could 
be procured of this nature, and from personal informa- 
tion he derived much m9re. But for the knowledge 
that he acquired he was still more indebted to the vast 
o5 



144 SIR WALTER RALEIGH, 

stores of his own mind, to a profound judgment and 
a penetrating observation. 

Raleigh, however, was not one of those superficial 
adventurers who strike out a plan with crude and eager 
zeal, and then immediately pursue It with blind impe- , 
tuosity. He knew the necessity of caution In an affair 
of such Importance: and therefore dispatched an offi- 
cer of approved skill and fidelity, to examine the coast ; 
that, after his information w^as a^s complete as the n-a-^ 
tiire of things would allow, he might erect the super- 
structure of his design on a solid basis. 

But though Raleigh seemed most in his element 
when in the prosecution of some distant object, he was 
not an inattentive observer of domestic concerns ; and a 
man of his talents could not be useless or unemployed 
on any stage. He exerted himself in parliament, as 
knight of the shire for his native . county : he had a di- 
stinguished share in almost ev^ry expedition or feat of 
arms, during the greater part of the reign of Eliza- 
beth : and while the colonization of Virginia was the 
principal object of his attention, he received the honour 
of knighthood from his wise and politic mistress, who 
was as frugal of the honours which she bestowed, as 
careful of her treasury. 

His inflaence w^ith the queen at last rose to such a 
pitch, as to excite the jealousy of less favoured courtiers ; 
and his enemies employed every artifice to undermine 
him. To the clergy he had given offence by some free 
xiotlons in religion : yet If w^ may judge from his 
works, no man ha'd juster ideas, and a more awfal sense 
of the divine nature and perfections ; or a firmer belief 
in Revelation. So dangerous is it, however, to oppose 
i popular prejudices, that w^hile he strove to exalt reli- 
gion by-attacking the old school of divinity, he was aq- 
• cased ,of infidelity itself. 

The -qiieeuvdisregarded the malice of Raleigh's ad- 
versaries, and saw through their insidious 'design 'to 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 145 

lessen him in her esteem ; but what his most bitter 
enemies could not effect, his own imprudence nearly 
accomplished. 

Among the maids of honour to the queen, was a 
daughter of sir Nicholas Throgmorton. With this 
- lady sir Walter Raleigh carried on a love affair ; which 
being discovered by its natural consequences, she was 
dismissed from her attendance at . court, and he was 
put under confinement for several months. In the 
mind of Elizabeth, a secret amour, particularly with a 
lady of the court, was considered as highly criminal ; 
but Raleigh made the most honourable reparation by 
marriage, and they long lived patterns of conjugal 
fidelity and affection. 

» By this temporary loss of the queen's regard, our 
intrepid adventurer was rendered more desirous of 
carrying into effect his long-meditated expedition to 
Guianp.^ in hopes that his success might restore him to 
the favour of his sovereign. Accordingly he set sail 
from Plymouth v/ith a small squadron, on the 6th of 
February 1595 : and after a propitious voyage arrived 
at the isle ©f Trinidad ; where he took the city of St. 
Joseph, together with the Spanish governor. He then 
. sailed four hundred miles up the Oroonoko in little 
barks ; opened a friendly intercourse vrith tlie natives ; 
and obtained certain indications of gold-mines, but was 
not furnished Vvitli instruments for working them. 

Having extensively surveyed the banks of this beau- 
tiful river, he at last came to cataracts v^hich impeded 
his farther progress : and the rain failing in such tor- 
rents that it frequently penetrated ten times a day to 
the skin, it was judged expedient to make for the sliips ; 
v/hich wds effected v/ith the most persevering labour, 
in spite of multiplied diilicultie^. 

The ore, the fossils, and the plates of gold, Vv'high sir 
Walter Raleigh brought to England, considerably 
roused the attention of the nation, and the general voice 



146 SIR WALTER HALEIGH. 

would have favoured a prosecution of his discoveries ; 
but his enemies, stung with jealousy at what he had 
achieved, threw out the most invidious insinuations 
against his patriotism and veracity, and sacrificed the 
honour and the interest of the country to their own pri- 
vate animosity and revenge. 

The queen too, harassed by the conspiracy, or rather 
. / frenzy of the earl of Essex, had litde leisure and less 
inclination to engage In distant schemes of glory. She, 
hov/ever, became perfectly reconciled to sir Walter, and 
during the remainder of her reign he basked in the 
sunshine of deserved favour ; but all his prospects were 
eclipsed by her death. 

On the accession of James the Firs£ he experienced 
indeed a short gleam of royal favour ; but the charac- 
ters of the prince and the subject were so opposite, that 
it v/as impossible for their good understandinp; to be 
permanent. Sv/ayed by maxims of honour, Raleigh 
submitted not without declared aversion to the ascen- 
dancy which strangers acquired in prejudice to his na- 
tive country ; and animated with the love of military 
rlory, ne could not help despising the pusillanimous 
conduct of James. Ke v/as likev^Ise im.prudently 
drawn in to join a sinking party ; which his good sen^e 
might have told him could only operate his own ruin, 
without any probable advantage to his country. 
In consequence of this he was stripped of all the offices 
which he so honourably held under Elizabeth ; and 
was soon after committed to the Tcwer, on an alleged 
charge of treason, in plotting against the king, and 
carrying on a secret correspondence with Spain, to which 
nation he had in fact ever shev/n the most inveterate 
hostility. 

The crown-lawyers, to whom his inflexible integrity 

made him obnoxious, carried on the prosecution v\^ith 

the most rancorous virulence. The great sir Edward 

Coke forgot the dignity of a judge in his invectives 

8 



SIR WALTER KALEIGH. 147 

against him ; and " traitor, monster, viper, and spider 
cf liell/' were some of the opprobrious titles which 
this rude cakimniator bestowed on Raleigh. In a word, 
the government was determined to convict him, not 
only without evidence, but against it; and though It 
seemed to hesitate at legalized murder, it kept him a 
close prisoner for tlie long period of tv/elve years. 

Such id-requited services, and such severity, v/oulcl 
have broken the mind of any other person than Raleigh: 
but he, superior to the malice of his foes, and panting 
with a generous ardour for immortal fame, employed 
his pen to illuminate a thankless age ; and among other 
works, produced in the Tower his well-known and 
much admired History of the World. 

What means he took to mitigate the prejudices of 
James, cannot now be ascertained with precision. It 
Is very probable that the application of a bribe to some 
of the needy courtiers, had considerable inilaence upon 
them; and the sovereign himselfj by his crimdnal pro- 
fusion, being in want of fresh supplies, no doubt listen- 
ed with avidity to a man who fancied that gold-mines 
were within his reach whenever he was permitted to 
proceed in qyest of them. 

In 1616 he procured his liberation, and soon after 
received a royal commission to go and explore the 
mines of Guiana. It w^as not:, however, till July in the 
next year, that he was ready to sail ; In consequence of 
v/hich delay his designs were betrayed to the Spaniardsj, 
and all his plans rendered unsuccessful. 

In his course he touched at the Canaries, with an in*, 
tention of landing ; but the Spaniards, being prepared, 
opposed him with such vigour, that he was glad to sti- 
pulate for necessary supplies on the best terms by which 
he could procure them. 

He now proceeded to hi/s destination ; and, reaching 
Guiana, was received by the Indians with the most 
flattering homage and attention. So prepossessing 



14S giR WALTER RALEIGH. 

were his manners, that wherever he went his fiwourable 
reception was insured ; and wherever he had once vi- 
sited, he was sure to be welcomed again. The kindness 
and respect v/hich he experienced from these friendlj 
people, he very modestly mentioned in his dispatches 
.sent home : for in sir Walter Raleigh modesty v/as 
blended with the choicest gifts of nature ; with superior 
capacity, heroic resolution, and genuine magnanimity." 

Falling into an indisposition, he was obliged to in- 
trust the command of an expedition up the Oroonoko in 
quest of a gold-mine of which he had received notice 
in his former voyage, to Kemys, one of his captains, 
and to his eldest son, captain Walter Raleigh. Devi- 
ating from the prudent instructions which had been 
given them, they fell into an ambuscade : and after 
doing considerable damage to the Spaniards at St. 
Thome, were obliged to retire without reaching.j}ie 
mine which had been the grand object of their enterprize. 

Young Raleigh fell in this affair, w^hile he was per- 
forming prodigies of valour, and proving himself the 
legitimate son of such a father. On receiving the me- 
lancholy nev7s of the death of his beloved son, sir Wal- 
ter felt all the bitterness of grief. The most tender 
sensibility is not incompatible vHdi the highest degrees 
of courage. ' But sir Walter had not only a domestic 
and irretrievable calamity to lament ; he v/as frus- 
trated in all his hopes from this expedition : and he re- 
proached Kemys, in the anguish of his hearty for 
neglecting his instructions to procure some of the gold 
ore ; v/hich Vvould have preserved his character, and 
allayed the popular discontent at home. Kemys, un- 
able to brock disappointment and blame, sacrificed 
himself as an expiation for his misconduct, and thus 
proved that he wanted true magnanimity ; for to part 
with life rashly is real cowardice, but to bear its accu- 
mulated ills without despondency is a.n effect of the 
most exalted couni^e. 



SIR WALTEPv RALEIGH. 149 

A council of officers being summoned, the prevailing 
wish' was an instant return to England. Raleigh found 
it in vain to oppose the general sentiment ; and indeed 
the Spaniards seemed to benow so w^ell on their guard, 
that success in the attem^pt was more than problematical. 
He therefore yielded to the current of opinion ; and 
about the end of July 1618 laiided at Plymouth, worn 
out with illness and vexation. 

To give the last stroke to his calamities, he vv^as in- 
formed here that the king had published a proclamation 
requiring him and his officers to appear before the privy 
council, to answer for their conduct at St. Thome. 
This was done at the mstigation of Gondamar, the Spa- 
nish ambassador; who thirsted for the blood of Raleigh, 
in revenge for the long series of injuries w^hich he had 
done the Spanish nation : and Jamxcs had neither the 
honour nor the courage to protect a man who was one 
of the most distinguished ornaments of his age, ar.d will 
be the admiration of all posterity. He w^as speedily ar- 
rested, and committed prisoner to his own house m 
London ; but, foreseeing the event, he endeavoured to 
escape. He Luid only reached Greenwich, however, be- 
fore he was seized : and being committed to the Tower, 
in mockery of all justice, and to the eternal infamy of 
this reign, en the 28th of October following was 
brought into the court of king's-bench ; when the re- 
cord of his form.er sentence being read, after the lapse of 
so many years, he was sentenced on that to die ; and the 
next morning was beheaded in Old Palace-yard, in the 
sixty-ninth year of his age. 

On the scaffold he behaved like a hero and a chris- 
tian. He vindicated his conducl: in a most pathetic and 
eloquent speech ; and then, feeling the edge of the fatal 
instrument of death, observed with a smile, " It is a 
sharp medicine, but a sure remedy for all w^oes." Be- 
ing asked which w^ay he v/ould lay himself on the block, 
he replied, << So the heart be right, it is no matter 



150 SIR WALTER RALEIGH. 

wl'slch way the head lies." After this, composing him* 
self as If he had been gohig to rest, his head was severed 
from his body at two blows. The former was long pre- 
served by his widow as a precious relic of affection ; the 
latter was interred In the chancel of St. Margaret's 
church V/estmlnster. 

The cruelty and flagrant injustice of this execution 
astonished all Europe, and its history is still read with 
execration by Englishmen. 

In person sir Walter Raleigh was tall, well shaped, 
^nd strong. His hair Vv^as of a dark colour and full ; 
and his features, and the contour of his face, such as 
were formed to inspire respect. He was magnificent 
in his dress, but this point had the least share of his at- 
tention. In his character he united almost every great 
quality that can deserve the veneration of mankind. 
As a soldier, a statesman, and a scholar, he might have 
rivalled the ^(nost eminent personages of ancient or mo- 
dern times. He was not only learned him.self, but the 
patron of learning. To him we are indebted for Spen- 
sery the poet of fancy ; whom he introduced from Ire- 
land, and whose fame v/ill be eternal with his own. In 
short, in v\^hatever situation Raleigh appeared, his cha- 
racter was illustrious and great ; and he seemed to live " 
for liis country rather than for himself. , 

His widow and children miCt v/ith the basest ingrati- 
tude and ill usage from the same pusillanimous court 
vvhich had taken off the husband and the father ; and 
v/hich thus aggravated and perpetuated the infamy that 
time might have softened, or its ov/n compunction have, 
partly effaced. 

TSIone can read the life of sir Walter Raleigh without 
i)eing impressed with the truth of this maxim ; " that 
anibltion, however honourably displayed, is seldom the 
path that conducts to private felicity.'^ 



C 151 ) 
FRANCIS BACON; 

- iCOUNT ST. ALBANS, BARON OF VKRULAM, AND LORD 
HIGH CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND. 

Born 1561— Died 1626. 
From 3d Ellzakih to 2d Charles L 

j OF this immortal honour to literature and his coun- 
! tr^, it is impossible to speak without enthusiasm in con* 
j templating his genius, or without pity in viewing his 
weaknesses. Pope characterizes him as 

The wisest, brightest, meanest, of mankind ; 

and a late writer, with as much elegance as propriety, 
calls him " the prophet of those arts which Newton 
! was afterwards to reveal," 

I Francis Bacon was the son of sir Nicholas Bacon, 
I lord-keeper In the reign of Elizabeth, and was bom at 
York-house in the Strand, January 22, 1561. His mo-' 
ther was Anne, daughter of sir Anthony Cooke; a lady 
as illustrious for her classical attainments as for her do- 
mestic virtues. 

So extraordinary were the presages of his future ge- 
nius at a very early age, that queen Elizabeth distin- 
guished him while still a child ; and with peculiar plea- 
sure heard his shrewd remarks, and drew out his perti- 
nent replies. From the strength of his intellect, and 
the prematurity of his understanding, she used to call 
him in plcdsaatry <* her young lord-keeper." It is re- 
corded of him when a boy, that Elizabeth having one 
day asked his age, he iastantly and handsomely replied, 
" that he was just two years younger than her majesty's 
happy reign." 

His attainments in classical learning were raj^d, and 
he Vv^as judged qualitied for removal to the university 
in the twelfth year of his age- Accordingly he was ca- 



152 FRANCIS BACON, 

tered of Trinity college, Cambridge : where he made 
such incredible progress in his studies, that before the 
age of sixteen he had run through the whole circle of 
the hberal arts as then taught ; and even at this early- 
period he began to perceive those futilities and imper- 
fections in the reigning philosophy, which for the ser- 
vice of learning and of mankind, he afterwards so effec- 
tually exposed and exploded. 

Leaving the university with the highest reputation, 
he was sent on his travels, and warmly recommended 
to the English ambassador in France i whose esteem 
and confidence he so entirely gained, that he was in- 
trusted with a secret commission to her majesty ; which 
having discharged with prudence and dispatch, he re- 
sumed his observations abroad. 

While engaged in every liberal pursuit, and combin- 
ing a knowledge of the world with a knowledge of 
books and languages, his father suddenly died without 
being able to make that provision for his son which he 
wished and intended. In consequence, the young phi- 
losopher was obliged to discontinue his travels : but not 

. before he had acquired a deep and almost intuitive in- 
sight into the manners and customs of other countries, 
and the characters and views of their princes and mi- 
nisters ; which he exemplified in a small work on the 
general state of Europe, published before he had attain- 
ed his nineteenth year. 

Being without a patrimony on which to depend, in 
order to procure a geuteel subsistence he entered him- 
self of Gray's-inn. All the secrets of jurisprudence w^re 
speedily descried by this penetrating genius ; and after 
receiving some honourable testimonies of approbation 

. from the society to which he belonged, in being ap- 
pointed their reader, at the age of twenty-eight he was 

-nominated counsel-extraordinary to the queen. 

. The celebrated and unfortunate earl of Essex, a man 
who loved and was capable of appreciating merit, had 



LORD VXRULAMo 153 

rxned a close intimacy with Bacon soon after his re- 
turn from his travels ; and made use of all his influence, 
but without effect, to obtain for him some professional 
appointment which would set him above dependance. 
To console his friend under his disappointm.ent (which 
was probably owing to his avowed patronage, as it ren- 
dered Bacon an object of suspicion to the other cour- 
tiers), he generously presented him with Twnckenham 
park and gardens j whither he frequently retired to in- 
dulge in learned ease, and in some of the most sublime 
speculations that could engage the mind of man. 

Our early connections frequently influence our latest 
hour, and therefore the utmost caution should be used 
in forming them. If the patron to whom we" attach 
ourselves possesses not the power, or wants the inclina- 
tion, to advance our interest, what can be expected but 
indifference about our fortune from others ? It is w^ell 
indeed if it happens no worse, for frequently on.e fac- 
tion tries to depress even the humblest adherent of an- 
other. It is impossible otherwise to account for the 
little preferment which a man of Bacon's acknowledged 
abilities received during the v/hole reign of Elizabeth, 
notwithstanding his near relationship to lord Burleigh, 
and the early prepossession of her majesty in his favour. 
Whenever friendship solicited a place for him, enmity or 
opposition interposed ; and while those who entertained 
the latter sentim.ents confessed his intellectual abihties,. 
they represented him as a speculative man, who was 
more likely to perplex tlian to forward public business. 
Even Burleigh Vv^ith great difficulty procured for him 
in reversion the oSce of register to the star-chamber,. 
which w^as- reckoned to be vrortb a thousand pounds a 
year ; but this place did not become vacant for him till 
nearly twenty years afterwards. 

Depressed by his narrov/ circumstances, enfeebled by 
too sedulous application to study, and conscious of merit 
which he found ineffectual to his elevation, both hh 



K54 tRANClS BACOK5 

health and his spirits forsook him ; and at one time he 
seems to have formed the resolution of bidding adieu to 
liis country for ever. His friends, however, diverted 
him from this purpose; and for a time ceasing to feel 
the impulse of ambition, he wi'apped himself up in phi- 
losophical apathv, and planned those various works 
which throw unsullied rays of glory round his head. 

But the desire of shining in public life, though dor- 
mant, was not extinct ; and it is painful to delineate its 
renewed emotions. Gratitude to a benefactor, though 
unfortunate, is a quality that reflects the highest ho- 
nour on human nature. Bacon, though pure and cor- 
rect in his study, seems to have entertained very loose 
'principles of political attachment. When Essex fell, 
rather than resign the empty title of counsel-extraordi- 
nary to the queen, he officially pleaded against him ; 
and, as if this was not enough to shew his ingratitude, he 
blackened the memory of his early patron by the most 
illiberal and unjust accusations. Such baseness cannot 
be extenuated ; but it may be recorded as a w^arning ta 
those who might be tempted to copy so infamous an 
example, that it wholly failed of the effect which he in- 
tended. The queen still retained too much atTection 
for Essex, to countenance his reviler and betrayer ; and 
the people, too generous to see a man who had once 
been their darling attacked when he was incapable of 
defending himself, particularly by a friend, were exas- 
perated against Bacon, and even threatened his life* 
During the remainder of Elizabetlrs reign, he was 
justly treated with neglect by all parties ; perhaps with 
silent contempt for his prostituted services. 

Another prospect opened on the accession of James ; 
and Bacon, havino: had the address to ingratiate him- 
self with the new f ivourites, was soon distinguished 
by his majesty, from whom he received the honour of 
knighthood as the first pledge of royal regard. To 
have bem overlooiced by Elizabeth, was in general ^- 



LORD VERULAM. 155 

sufficient recGmmendation to James. He retained in- 
deed soiue of her principal ministers, out of policy or 
necessity ; but his favourites were all of his own 
making or finding. 

Sir Francis Bacon, being now firmly established at, 
court, had only to recover his popularity. He whom 
a king distinguishes, is sure to be honoured by one 
party at least. It had for some time been a matter of 
complaint, that the royal purveyors oppressed the 
people ; and in the first session of parliament after 
James mounted the throne, a solemn representation of 
this grievance w^as agreed on in the house of commons, 
and sir Francis Bacon was delegated to lay it before 
the king. His success in this mission W'as so great, 
that he recovered the entire gcod-will of the public, 
without lessening his interest with the soverelgji. He 
was thanked by the house of commons ; and the? full 
tide of courtly favour and popular applause^ seemed 
now united in w^aftlng him to the haven of his wishes. 

He was soon after appointed s(;licitor-general, an 
office which had long been the object of his ambition ; 
and from that period, becoming a professed courtier, 
he strained every nerve, and debased every faculty of 
his exalted mind, in forwarding the favourite measures 
of the weak and timid James. -Among these, the 
union of the two kingdoms w^as one that lay nearest 
his heart; but all the powers of argument, and all 
the eloquence of sir Francis Bacon, could not eiFect 
this design. 

Being thus checked in his political career, he n.pplied 
himself with more assiduity to the business of his pro- 
fession; and his reputation daily increasing, he soon 
monopolized the most lucrative and important causes 
at the bar. It is remarked of Bacon, that v/hen he 
had no immediate view of preferment at court, he was 
a faithful and an active patriot ; and having on several 
occasions defended the Hberties of the people with 



156 FRAisrcis bacon, 

energy and effect, his deviations from that lirie of con- 
duct were not too -severely marked. Such indeed were 
his transcendent abilities, that he was cow courted hj 
all parties, and love or fear kept them steady in his 
favour. 

Being appointed attorney- general, he honourably 
exerted himself to suppress the practice of duelling, 
the frequency of which had become disgraceful both ' 
to religion and government. A charge which he deli- 
vered on an occasion of this kind was so much admired, 
that it was ordered to be printed. 

The private affairs of sir Francis Bacon being now 
in a most flourishing state, and those courtiers who 
had so long opposed his promotion being either dead 
or removed, he saw Villiers, afterwards duke of Buck- 
ingham, rising towards the height of-favour, bowed 
to his influence, and was taken Into the intimate friend- 
ship of that minister. Yet in this connection he must 
be acquitted cf any sinister ends, incompatible with 
his duty. He gave the most excellent advice to the 
new favourite for the regulation of his conduct ; and 
amidst all his political inconsistencies, seems, when not 
fwayed by ambition or interest, to have felt warmly 
for the good of his country, and to have devoted his ' 
best talents to her service. 

Having previoiisly been sworn a privy-counsellor on 
the resignation of lord-chancellor Egerton, sir Francis 
Bacon, who had always directed his view to this high 
office, was appointed to it notwithstanding the powerfjl 
opposition of sir Edward Coke. But the latter was 
not of 60 flexible a disposition as Bacon, and con- 
sequently was less qualified to please an arbitrary 
prince. With the dignity of chancellor he received 
a peerage, by the title of baron of Verulam, and three 
years afterwards the superior dislinction of viscount of 
St. Albans. • 

Soon after lord Verulam had received the seals, the 
7 



LORD VERUI.AM. 15*7 

king set out for Scotland ; and his lordship being then, 
in virtue of his office, at the head of tlie council, he felt 
all the difficulties of his situation. The treaty of mar- 
riage between Charles prince of Wales and the infanta 
of Spain being brought forward, the chancellor, who 
saw the impolicy of this measure, strongly remon- 
strated against it both to the king and Buckingham ; 
but he was overruled by obstinacy and folly, and at 
. last th« negotiation was broken off by the very means 
Xaken to effect it. 

A matrimonial connection between the daughter of 
sir Edward Coke and tlie brother of the duke of Buck- 
ingham likewise gave him much solicitude, lest he 
should be supplanted by such an union of interest 
against him ; and he opposed this match with more 
perseverance than decency, for which he incurred the 
slight resentment of his master : biit the storm soon 
blew over, and lord Verulam triumphed over all com- 
petitors at court ; at the same tinae that he w^as the 
object of just admiration, not only to his country but 
to Europe, for his successful studies. Amidst all the 
variety and intricacy of his pursuits as a lawyer and a 
statesman, philosophical research was evidently his 
ruling passion. <* Alas !'^ exclaims a late writer, ** that 
he who could command immortal fame, should have 
stooped to the little am.bition >of power !'^ 

The instability of human grandeur has been ever 
proverbial. Scarcely had lord Verulam attained the 
summit of his wishes, before he w^as hurled- from his 
station witli the loss of his reputation even for honesty. 
James, having exhausted his finances, was obliged to 
call a parliament ; and the nation being highly dissatis- 
fied with the public conduct both of Buckingham and 
the chancellor, a. strict inquiry was instituted against 
them. The king would gladly have screened them 
both, by a stretch of his prerogative in dissolving the 
parliament : but he was obliged to temporize till he 



US FRANCIS BACON, 

had obtained some supplies from it ; and the chancellor, 
though certainly the greatest man and the least 
offender, was made the sacriHce to the other. To 
divert the commons from the prosecution of the fa- 
vourite Buckingham, some monopolies and illegal 
patents were cancelled and recalled by proclamation ; 
while lord Verulam v/as impeached of bribery and 
corruption in his character of chancellor ; and, meanly 
compromising his honour for a pension and a promised 
rem-isslon of the fine to be imposed, he complied with 
the wish of the court in yielding his right to speak in 
' his own defence, and was condemned on a written con- 
fession. Every reader must blush for ^ man who 
could be m^ade such a dupe, and who could consent to 
give up his honour to the insidious blandishments of a 
court. Buckingham escaped by^this artifice ; but lord 
Verulam was sentenced to pay a fine of forty thou- 
sand pounds ; to be imprisoned in tlie Tower during 
the king's pleasui^se ; to be for ever incapable of any 
office, place, or emolument, in tlie state ; and never | 
to sit again in parliament, or come within the verge of ^ 
the court. 

It is but justice, however, to the cliaracter of this 
eminent man, to obsesve that he fell the martyr rathe; 
to his want of prudence, than his want of integrity. 
Notwithstanding his extensive practice at the bar, and 
the high ofiice of state which he had filled, h^s whole 
landed property did not exceed six hundred pounds d 
year ; and he was so far from having amassed money, 
that he was deeply involved in debt. Owing to hi^ 
philosophic indifrerence about wealth, his great indul- 
gence to his servants, and his total want of economy 
in the managem.ent of his domestic affairs, he had 
been grossly defrauded. In short, that bribery and 
corruption for which he was condemned, though he 
was extremely culpable in conniving at it, tended only 
to the advantage of his dependants. Few of the gifts 



LO^B VERULAM. 13Q 

rame ultimately to his own coffers^ and so far Was he 
irom being influenced by them, that there was not a 
Siingle instance in which his decisions v/ere not guided 
by strict equity ; for not one of his decrees was reversed 
after his disgrace. 

He seems himself to have been so sensible at lajt of 
his ill-judged lenity, that one day during his trial, on 
his domestics rising to do him honour as he passed 
through the apartment, he said ; <* Sit down, my 
masters ; your rise has been my fall.'' He who is 
destitute of prudence, will soon be found or fancied 
deficient in every other virtue. Without economy 
there can be no independance ; and without indepen- 
dance, in vain shall we look for those qualities that 
form the ground of honourable character. 

Conformably to the previous stipulation, lord Veru- 
lam's cpnfinemdnt was but short ; his fine was remitted • 
a pension of eighteen hundred pounds a year was setl 
tied on him ; and he was summoned to the fi'rst par- 
liament of Charles the First, notwithstanding his senw 
tence. ^ 

After his disgrace, however, he seems to have been 
perfectly cured of ambition : he withdrew to that lite- 
rary ease and retirement for which nature had adapted 
hhn, and spent the last years of his life in the noblest 
studies that could engage the mind of man. Whil^ 
he was prosecuting some discoveries in experimental 
philosophy, near Highgate, he was suddenly taken 
ill ; and benig carried to the earl of Arundel's 
house m the neighbo-arhood, after a week's Ilhiess 
he breathed his last, on the ^th day of April 1626 
By his lady (a daughter of alderman Barnham of Lon^ 
don, wliom he married when near forty years of a^e) 
he left no issue ; and his title, of course, became W 
tmct. He was buried ia St. Michael's church at St. 
Albans, and^for some time lay without a stone to mark 
h-> name; till the gratitude of sir Thomas Meautys, 



160 FRANCIS BACON, LORD VERULAM. 

who had formerly been his secretary, erected the mo- 
nument to a memory which can never die. 

In person, lord Veitilam was of the middling sta- 
tnre ; his forehead, broad and open, was early stamped 
with the marks of age ; his eyes were lively and pene- 
trating ; and his whole appearance was venerably 
pleasing. 

So differently has his character been delineated, ac- 
cording to the different lights in which it has been 
viewed^ that by some his real blemishes are wholly 
thrown into sliade, and by others they are made to 
occupy the most prominent place on the canvass. His 
failings have been candidly represented in the above 
sketch, and his great and exalted qualities need not 
commendation here. He was undoubtedly impressed 
with a sense of his own illustrious attainments when 
he wrote this singular passage in his last will: "for 
my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable 
speeches, and to foreign nations and the next ages.'* 
And well might he make this appeal ; for in general 
his faults, compared to his excellences, were only like 
spots on the surface of the sun. 

The account of this extraordinary genius cannot be 
better concluded than with a brief enumeration of his 
learned labours. His earliest philosophic production 
seems to have been the First Part of Essays ; or 
Counsels, civil and moral. In this w^ork he lays 
dov*rn the useful principles of knowledge and pru- 
dence ; and points out the means of obviating ills, and 
obtaining blessings. 

Next appeared the introduction to his most capital 
performance. On the Proficience and Advancement 
of Learning, divine and human. The general design 
of this treatise was to exhibit a concise view of the 
existing knowledge, under proper divisions ; with hints 
to supply its deficiencies. After his seclusioti from 
public business, this was very much enlarged, and 



BISHOP ANDREWS. 161 

turned ntx) Latin; and properly constitutes the first 
part of his Grand Instauration of tlie Sciences. 

In 1607 he published a treatise entitled Cogltafa et 
Fisa ; which, as containing the plan of his Novum 
04'ganuw, or second part of the Instauration of the 
Sciences, had been previously submitted to the most 
able literary friends, for their remarks and improve- 
ments. 

Three years after was published his exquisite little 
work, Ik Sapientia Feterum ; and few books met witli 
a better reception, or acquired moregeneral celebrity 
than this. 

Lastly, in 1620, when in the zenith of his glory, he 
produced his most important philosophical work, under 
the appellation of the No'-:^um Organum Sclentlarmn y 
which is properly a second part of his Grand Instau- 
ration of tlie Sciences, a performance which it would 
be idle to praise, and vain to depreciate. 

His collected works were elegantly published in five 
volumes quarto in 1765. 



LANCELOT ANDREWS/ 

BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 

Born 1555 — Died 1626. 

From 2d Mary, to 2d darks L 

THE life of a good man, whatever his station or his 
success may be, cannot be written without pleasure, 
nor read without improvement ; but when we find the 
purest principles, the most extensive learning, and the 
utmost amenity of manners, reflecting lustre on pre^ 
ferment, the narrative becomes doubly interesting; 
and we delight in tracing by what progressive steps exi 
alted merit has risen to a suitable reward. 
H 2 



162 3I6H0P ANBR1EWS. 

This. eminent divine, the contemporary and friend 
of lord Bacon, was the son of a mariner, who towards 
the decline of life was chosen master of the Trinity- 
house at Deptford. He was born in the parish of 
Allhallows, near Tower-hill ; and having received the 
elements of education at the Coopers' free-school in 
RatcliiF-highway, he w^as removed to Merchant-taylor's 
school, under the tuition of Mr. Mulcaster. His asto- 
nishing progress in the classics endeared him to his 
master ; by whom he was recommended as a proper 
object to receive one x)f the scholarships then lately 
founded at Pembroke college Cambridge^ by Dr. Watts 
archdeacon of Middlesex. 

Having in consequence been honoured with the first 
nomination, he pursued his studies with such assiduity^ 
particularly in theology, and rendered himself so ac- 
ceptable by his conduct, that he was soon chosen fellow 
of his colkge, and afterwards catecbist. In this cha- 
racter he read lectures on the ten commandments ; and 
as he possessed a graceful address, and fine elocution, 
h's pulpit orations were much admired, and generally 
attended. His personal merits, and his growing repu- 
tation as ^ divine, soon reached the ears of the founder 
of Jesus ccdle^e, 0;xford ; who without his knowledge 
complimented him witb one of the first fellowships in 
that new society. 

Of his habits and manners, which sometimes shew 
the heart fnore explicitly than the most important 
actions, some pleasing details have been recorded. 
His filial afixsction (a virtue without which no one can 
he reckoned truly good or great) was so strong, that 
after he had been initiated <it the university, he never 
failed to visit his parents in London on all proper occa.. 
sionsx durijng bis residence both at Cambridge aad 
Oxford^ ^nd that he might fill up those intervals, so 
4ear to -every feeling mind, with advantage, he took 
^are to be provided isvidi a private tutor, to instruct 
1 



BISHOP ANDREWS. 163 

jaim in such branches of learning as were not usuallr 
taught in the universities. By this means, within a 
few years he acquired a prodigious fund of knowledge, 
to which he added an acquaintance with modem 
languages. 

His journeys to town he constantly performed on 
foot, till he had attained such a rank in the university 
tliat he feared his love of this exercise v/ould be as- 
cribed to parsimony. Yet walking still continued to 
be his favourite amusement, and he rationally preferred 
it to all others ; declaring tliat the contemplation of' 
nature, and the examination of its various productions,. 
were to him the most exquisite of all entertainments. 

The common recreations of volatile youth, the 
games invented to kill time without improvement, he 
never enjoyed ; but sought for higher gratification in. 
science and meditation. 

Such was his reputation, that he never had occasion 
to seek a patrou; and thus happily never knew the 
anguish of hope deferred, nor the misery of expecta- 
tion and depeudance. Henry earl -of Huntingdon, lord 
president of the north, \vithout solicitation appointed* 
him his chaplain ; and he accompanied this noble- 
man in his progress through that part of the kingdom, 
where he converted many from popery by his preach- 
ing, and more by his private exhortations. 

Such zeal and success reconrnricnded him to sir 
Francis Walsingham, secretary of state ; who, rightly 
judging that his abilities w^ould be more useful as the 
stage was wider on which they wei*e displayed, first 
procured him the vicarage of St. Giles's Cripplegate, 
and in a short time after a residentiaryship of St. 
■ Paul's, with a prebend in the collegiate church of 
Southwell. 

Thus preferred, probably beyond his hopes, he re- 
doubled his diligence as a preacher, till he was pro- 
moted to the mastej-ship of Pembroke-hallj to which 



164 BISHOP ANDREWS, 

he afterwards became a generous benefattor. His next 
preferment was that of chaplain-in-ordinary to queen 
Elizabeth ; who, being charmed with the style of his 
sermons, made him dean of Westminster in 1601. 

After the death of his royal patroness, he had the 
good fortune to be held in equal estimation by her suc- 
cessor James ; who, conscious of his talents, prompted 
him to write an answer to cardinal Bellarmine, who 
had virulently attacked his majesty's book entitled 
The Defence of the Right of Kings. The doctrines 
cf James were certainly mo^ inimical to the cathoUe 
interest ; and Bellarmine, under the signature of Mat- 
thew Tortus, endeavoured to refute them. Dean An- 
drews, wittily playing on the adopted name, entitled 
his reply Tortura Torti, or The Terture of Tortus; 
and so fat succeeded in supporting his master's cause, 
that he was rewarded with the bishopric of Chichester. 
But independantly of his merit in. this particular ser- 
vice^ never did man better dit?*serve tlie mitre. As a 
fririlicr token of royal munificence and regard, he was 
likewise made lord-almoner ;. in which office he shewed 
^be p\irest disinterestedness,, even so far as to sacrifice 
his legal and undoubted rights. 

It was not long before tlie king had an opportunity 
of conferring a fresh reward upon this learned and 
pious prelate. On the vacancy of the see of Ely, he 
was translated thither in 1609 ; and the same year was 
sworn a privy counsellor both of England and Scot- 
land. 

After discharging the duties of his bishopric at Ely 
for nine years with the most conscientious attention, 
he was promoted without solicitation to the valuable 
see of Winchester, and appointed dean of the chapel- 
royal. To the honour of bishop Andrews it ought to 
be mentioned, that though a privy counsellor in times 
of considerable difficulty and danger ; when arbitrary 
priuciples were little disguised, and the royal preroga- 



BISHOP ANDREWS. 165 

rtve was stretched to the utmost ; he never sunk his 
dignity by base compliances, nor irritated by useless 
opposition. Wisely placing his honour and his duty 
in the faithful discharge of his pastoral office, he 
avoided the entanglements of temporal affairs, and 
attached universal respect to his character. The fol- 
lowing anecdote, which is well authenticated, is a proof 
at once of the integrity of his principles and the 
promptness of his wit. — One day, while James was at 
dinner,, immediately after dissolving the parliament^, 
he was standing with Niele bishop of Durham, be- 
hind the king's chair. In the course of conversa- 
tion, his majesty asked the two prelates if l\e was 
not authorized to take whatever money he wanted 
from his subjects without the formality of a parlia- 
rnent. The sycophant Niele readily exclaimed, " God 
forbid^' sir, but you should ! you are the breath cf 
our nostrils.'* The king then turned to Andrews 
and said, " Well, my lord, what say you ?'' " Sir,'* re- 
plied he, " I have no skill to judge in parliamentary 
cases." On this the king hastily added, " No put-ofts, 
my lord ; answer me instantly.'' "Then, sir," said he, 
** I think it lawful for you to take my brother Niele's 
money, for he offers it." This shrewd evasion of a 
very delicate question amused the company extremely: 
even James affected to be pleased with its humorous 
turn, and probably in his own breast entertained a 
much more exalted idea of Andrews than of Niele. 

After enjoying a very rare felicity in the singular 
esteem of three successive sovereigns, the friendship of 
the learned and the great, and the veneration of the 
good, during a long and tranquil life uniformly de- 
voted to the cause of piety and virtue, this illustrious 
prelate was called from this world to a better in 1626. 
He died at Winchester-house, Southwark: and was 
interred in the church of St. Saviour ; vmere a hand- 
some monument of marble and alabaster, with ajt 



166 Bishop Andrews. 

elegant Latin inscription, was erected to his memory* 
His loss was lamented by the pious, and his virtues 
were embalmed by the learned. Among others, the 
immortal Milton, then about seventeen years of age, 
honoured him with a beautiful Latin elegy, one of the 
first productions of his muse. 

After having run through the public scenes of bishop 
Andrews's life, it is a pleasure to revert to his private 
virtues. So truly amiable was his character as a pre- 
late and as a man, that it furnishes both an example 
and incentive to excellence, and ought not to be dis- 
missed with indifference. His contemporaries have 
decorated his hearjse with unfading flowers; and it is 
impossible to render a more valuable service to those 
who have yet their course to run, than to select some 
of their choicest sweets. In bishop Andrews they 
have a pattern worthy of their love and esteem. 

Though cheerful in his disposition, there was such a 
tempered gravity in his manner, as checked the sallies 
of indecent levity. According to Fuller, James him- 
self, who was much inclined to buifoonery, seemed to 
feel some awe and veneration in the presence of bishop 
Andrews. " Had he lived among the primitive bishops 
of the church,^ ^ says one of his biographers, " his vir« 
tues would have shined ex^en among those virtuous 
men.^' In short, to him might be applied what was 
sometimes said of Claudius Drusus ; ^* that he pos- 
sessed as many and as great virtues, as mortal nature 
could receive, or industry rear to perfection.'* 

As a diocesan, he was remarkably careful to pro« 
mote men of learning and virtue. He invited unbene- 
ficed clergymen of reputed merit to visit him ; defrayed 
the expences of their journey ; and if, on conversation 
With them, they were found v/orthy of his patronage, 
he preferred them as his livings became vacant. Thus 
^seeing with his own eyes, and hearing with his own 
€ars, he suffered no intrigues to impede the rise of 



BISHOP ANDREWS. 167 

worth, no recommendations to bias his judgment in. 
favonr of ignorance and irreligion. 

As it pleased Providence to increase his fortune, his 
charity and hberality rose in the same proportion. He 
took particular dehght in liberating those who had the 
misfortune to be confined for small debts, — a charity of 
the most beneficial kind to society as well as to indivi- 
duals. Wherever his bounty could be privately ap- 
plied, none but the immediate agent was sensible of 
the benefactor: the vouchers which he required for 
the faithful discharge of the trust, were- indeed to be 
signed by the person relieved ; t t the sympathizing 
friend was unknown. In an age when it is much to be 
feared that charity is frequently the result of ostenta- 
tion rather than of principle, it cannot be expected that 
bishop Andrews will find many imitators ; yet the pre- 
cedent is worthy of commemoration and applause. 

Another quality for which he was illustrious, was 
gratitude. As perfection is unattainable by humanity, 
some blemishes of one kind or other will adhere even 
to the best of men ; but where gratitude is wanting, 
the heart itself is depraved. So Vv^arm w^as our pre- 
late's sense of this virtue, that when he had it in his 
power, he not only remunerated those who had shewTi 
him kindness in his unprotected years, but extended 
his care to their relations. For the son of his first 
schoolmaster he liberally provided ; and such was his 
personal esteem for Mr. Mulcaster, under whom he 
had studied at Merchant-taylors*', that he ahvays placed 
him at the head of his table while he lived, and hung 
his picture in the most conspicuous part of his study 
when he was dead. Other attestations to his grateful 
remembrance of favours might be produced, but these 
are sufficient to evince his prevailing character. 

As a scholar, his reputJ^t'on was very higii indeed. 
He is said to have understood at least Mteen lan- 
guages 3 and his fame was not confined to tkis island, 
H 5 



168 SIR EDWARD COKLE. 

but extended to most parts of Europe. His literary 
correspondence was very extensive. C^saubon bears 
testimony to his universal erudition, and Spanheim and 
Vosslus are eloquent in his praise. Yet it must be con- 
fessed that his compositions were vitiated by the bad 
taste of the times. They were fiill of pun and wit, 
and scraps of Greek and Latin ; and though they all 
display the goodness of his heart and his extensive 
learning, they must now be read rather for improve- 
ment than for pleasure. This prelate had a consider- 
able share in that translation of the Bible which is now 
in use. 



SIR EDWARD COKE, 

LORD CHIEF JUSTICE OP ENGLAND. 

Bom 155(>---Died 1634. 

From 3d Edward FL, to 9ih Charks L 

OF all the professions, that of jurisprudence affords 
the fairest and most promising field for the exercise of 
abilities. The divine with very slender pretensions to 
talents, may rise on the props of patronage or con- 
nections ; the physician is often more indebted for suc- 
cess to his address than his skill ; but neither patronage, 
connections, nor address, can make a man an able 
lawyer or an eloquent pleader. In this profession 
there must be intrinsic merit : which at last will sur- 
mount all difficulties ; and, trusting to itself alone, 
will if at all called into action, command that atten- 
tion which -the generality of men are obliged to court. 
It is not therefore to be wondered at that there should 
be so many candidates for the honours of the bar ; and 
that, from among so many, competitors, there should 
be some splendid instances of successful labours. 

Among those whose legal attainments acquired them 



SIR EDWARD COKE. 169 

honour and opulence alive, and whose works instruct 
when dead, sir Edward Coke holds an elevated place. 
This luminary of the law was the son of Robert Coke, 
esq. of Mileham, in the county of Norfolk. After a 
slight domestic education, he was sent to the grammar- 
school of Norwich when ten years old, and in due time 
removed to Trinity college Cambridge. 

What early evidences he gave of genius or applica- 
tion at school or college, are not related. Our juvenile 
years commonly pass away unrecorded, and are soon 
forgotten. Talents are developed at very uncertain 
periods ; the sprightly boy does not always turn out 
the man of abilities, nor does the backward genius of 
youth always characterize matiirer years. 

It seems that Coke was originally destined for the 
law ; for after Hve years of study at Cambridge, he 
was entered of Clifford' s-inn ; and the first incident 
that brought him into any notice was the precision 
with which he stated the case of the cook belonging to 
the. house, and the shrewdness with which he pleaded 
it. 

It has been remarked on other occasions, that the 
fortunes of men frequently turn on slight and fortui- 
tous circumstances, which no foresight can anticipate^ 
no prudence can forvrard or retard. When the young 
lawyer was defending the cause of the cook, he pro- 
bably little thought that such an insignificant intro- 
duction would be the basis of his future fame : yet in 
consequence of the admiration which he excited on 
this occasion, he was called to the bar earlier than had 
been usual ; and according to his own reports, in Tri- 
nity term 1578 he defended a clergyman of Norfolk, 
in an action of scandalum magnaUimy brougnt against - 
him by Henry lord Cromwell. 

About this time he was appointed reader of Lyon's- 
inn, and his lectures increased his reputation* By ra- 
pid degreees he acquired such extensive practice, and 



170 SIR EDWARD eOKE. 

was considered as such a rising character, that after 
being seven years at the bar, he married an heiress of 
the ancient and honourable family of Fasten, with 
whom he had a portion of thirty thous^and pounds. 

By this marriage he became allied to some of the 
noblest houses in the kingdom, and honours and emo- 
luments begaii to be showered upon him abundantly^ 
He was chosen recorder of Coventry and Norwich, ob- 
tained the patronage of lord Burleigh, and was fre- 
quently consulted on political as well as judicial affairs. 
Being returned to parliament by his native county of 
Norfolk, he was first appointed queen's solicitor, and 
soon after chosen speaker of the house of commons* 
In 1592 he became attorney -^general, and by this step 
his rise to the summit of his profession was in a man- 
ner ensured. The only important business, however, 
in which he was employed in his new station during the 
reign of Elizabeth, was the trial of the earl of Essex, 
against whom he pleaded with peculiar acrimony. 

Being left a widower with ten children, he turned his 
thoughts to another match of great fortune, and still 
greater connections. This was the relict of sir V/illiam 
Katton, and sister to lord Burleigh. But this malr- 
rlage, however it might aggrandtze him, was fatal to 
his domestic felicity. Their discordant tempers were 
the source of mutual misery : and after many bicker- 
ings and partial separations, king James was obliged to 
become a mediator between them. But no authority 
can awaken the passion of love, or relume its extin- 
guished flame : they lived but to curse their destiny ; 
and the lawyer sought solace in business and ambition, 
instead of those sweeter comforts which a happy home 
can impart. 

In May 1603 he was knighted by king James; and 
in the same year conducted the trial of the brave un- 
fortunate sir Walter Raleigh, with such asperity and 
insolence, such scurrility and cruelty, as greatly lessen* 



SIR EDWARD COKE. 171 

ed the respect of the public for his character. How- 
ever, he gained credit by his sagacity in unravelling 
that dark and vindictive conspiracy, the gunpowder 
plot ; and on the trial of the conspirators, gave the most 
unequivocal proofs of extensive capacity, acute pene« 
tratlon, and solid judgment. Soon after he was ap- 
pointed lord-chief-justice of the common pleas, on 
which occasion he took for his motto the significant and 
appropriate words, Lex est tutissima cassis, " The law is 
the safest helmet.'* Having held this post \\4th high 
reputation for seven years, he was promoted to be lord- 
chief-justice of the king's bench, and sworn a privy- 
counsellor. 

Two years afterwards, when Egertonlord EUesmere 
vacated the place of lord-high-chancellor, his majesty 
was at a loss to determine on a successor, and seems to 
have thought of sir Edward Coke : but the intrigues of 
Bacon and others prevailed ; for the lord-chief-justice, 
though the greatest lawyer, was far from being the best 
politician. Bacon, taking advantage of the inflexible 
character of his rival, painted his own more compliant 
disposition in such colours as suited the humour and 
the principles of James, and in consequence he bore 
away the prize. Between Coke and Bacon there ap- 
pears to have been not only an emulation for rank and 
distinction, but a personal animosity which death only' 
could extinguish. Bacon perhaps envied that legal 
superiority which Coke was generally allowed to pos- 
sess \ and Coke beheld with indignation and despair 
that universality of genius in Bacon, which defied all 
competition, and gained him the highest admiration of 
mankind. 

Though sir Edward Coke had in the situation of 
attorney-general, and with prospects of higher prefer- 
ment before him, stretched the prerogative in some 
cases too far ; yet no sooner was he elevated to the 
chief bench of justice, than he seems to have deter- 



172 SIR EDWARD CX)KE. 

mined to maintain the integrity and independance of 
his post. He gave public notice how much he detested 
corruption, by frequently repeating this maxim, " that 
a judge should neither give nor take a bribe ;*' and in- 
stead of complying with arbitrary measures, on various 
occasions he shewed himself the firm friend of the 
liberties of his country, and of the rights of individuals. 

This conduct, however honourable to himself, was 
not likely to ingratiate him with James, or render his 
office permanent : for till the present reign the judges 
w^ere dependant on the royal will ; and justice wanted 
this best and greatest safeguard, an assurance that its 
ministers could not be displaced except for misconduct 
in their office. 

By degrees sir Edward Coke became more and more 
obnoxious to government ; and the chancellor Bacon, 
in the plenitude of his power, eagerly widened the 
breach by his courtly insinuations. The immediate 
cause of sir Edward's disgrace is differently accounted 
for. Certainly he had shewn himself xmfavourable to 
the leading maxims of James's court ; he had offended 
the favourite sir George Villiers, afterwards duke of 
Buckingham ; and the chancellor was' his inveterate, 
enemy. 

Against jsuch a combination of pov/erful interests, it 
was impossible for him to maintain his ground : his fall 
was determined ; and the manner In which it was ac- 
complished was in the highest degree humiliating. 

Being called before the privy-council, on the £Oth 
of June 1616, in the most unprecedented manner,- 
he was obliged to kneel while the solicitor-general 
preferred several vague accusations against him : such 
as, *' speeches of high contempt uttered in the seat of 
justice ; and uncomely and undutiful carnage in the 
presence of his majesty, the privy-council, and the 
judges.'* 

Reduced to this degraded situation, in an able and 



SIR EDWARD COKE. 173 

impartial manner he exculpated himself from the seve- 
ral charges urged agahist him, in support of which no 
direct evidence was advanced ; but his removal being 
predetermined, the only business was to prepare the 
way, and to invent some plausible excuses for such an 
exertion of power. 

At a second examination before the councils one of 
the secretaries of state informed him that his majesty- 
desired he might be sequestered from the council-table 
till his further pleasure w^as known : that he should 
forbear to ride his summer circuit as judge of as- 
size : and lastly, that he should, during the vacation, 
revise his book of Reports, in which it was declared 
there were many extravagant and exorbitant opinions ; 
and having made what corrections his discretion recom- 
mended, he was to exhibit the same privately to the 
king. Thus it appears the pedant James wished to 
assume the office of critic ; and was perhaps the first, 
and it is to be hoped the last of our sovereigns, to usurp 
a character so degrading to royalty. 

Sir Edward submitted to his majesty^s commands ; 
yet at the commencement of next term the lord chan- 
cellor imperiously forbade him Westminster-hall, and 
ordered him to answer several exceptions against his 
Reports. In the ensuing month he was dismissed from 
the ofiice of lord-chief-justice ; when lord Verulam not 
only privately triumphed in hi's disgrace, but personally 
insulted him by a very acrimonious composition, under 
the title of " An Admonitory Letter," in which he to- 
tally forgot the dignity of the gentleman and the meek- 
ness of the philosopher. 

But though degraded by the court, sir Edward was 
not yet dishonoured in the eyes of the people ; and if he 
had shewn that fortitude and steadiness of resolution 
which the occasion required, he might have been con- 
sidered as a martyr to his incorruptible integrity. Un- 



174? SIR EDWARD COKE. 

fortunately however, either a love of power, or a ran- 
kling desire to triumph once more over a rival by whom 
lie had been foiled, prevailed on him to adopt a plan of 
policy in which he was every way the loser^ Haughty 
and arrogant in his prosperity, he became dejected and. 
fawning in his adversity; and therefore neither deservei 
to be an object of respect in the one, nor of generous 
sympathy in the other. 

While chief-justice, he had rejected with disdain some 
proposals for a marriage between his daughter and sir 
John Villiers, brother of the duke of Buckingham ; 
but no sooner was his fell consummated, than he mag- 
nified his own disgrace by conning this alliance through 
the most abject means, and the most inconsiderate con- 
duct. In fact, he allowed Buckingham to make what 
conditions he pleased in favour of his brother j and as 
interest, not love, was the foundation of the proposed 
match, the terms insisted on were sufficiently exorbi- 
tant. But sir Edward had gone too far to recede^ 
and hoped for such influence by this connection, that 
he did not regard the great diminution of his owa, 
income which the settlement occasioned, nor this 
compromise of his honour. His lady, however,, 
would by no means consent to this aiFair : and disap- 
proving of the match merely because she had not been 
consulted on its propriety, she carried off her daugh- 
ter, and thus the \vhole family and their connections 
were thrown into confusion. The young lady being 
i^scued by force, both husband and wife appealed in 
their turn to the privy-council ; but sir Edward having 
regained a seat at that board, the marriage was quickly 
solemnized with great pomp, and a re-ccnc illation was 
effected between all the parties. It may not, however, 
be improper to remark, that this connection was as 
disastrous in its consequences as unpleasant in its com- 
mencement. Sir John Villiers, having obtained a for* 



SIR EDWARD COKJS. 175 

tune, disregarded the person who conferred it ; and his 
lady recriminated by the most flagrant violations of 
decorum. 

The lord-chief-justiceship having been disposed of 
before this business was brought forward, sir Edv/ard 
was precluded from all hopes of resummg that high 
station ; but being reinstated in council, he was em- 
ployed in various important political negotiationis, par- 
ticularly in adjusting the differences between the Dutch 
and English East-India companies. 

A parliament being summoned in 1621, sir Edward 
Coke was chosen a member ; and probably finding that 
Jie had been duped by the party to which he had sacri- 
ficed so much, he exerted his great talents and his elo- 
quence in exposing the mischie\'ous tendency of various 
ministerial measures. At the same time he boldly con- 
tended for the constitutional privileges of parliament^ 
and urged with great animation the institution of a 
committee to inquire into the national grievances. 

In consequence of this spirited behaviour, the king, 
jealous of his prerogative in the highest degree, be- 
came extremely alarmed. By an injudicious procla- 
mation he forbade all persons to intermeddle, by pen 
or speech, with state affairs : and* even intimated to 
parliament, tliat politics were above their comprehen« 
sion ; and that all the privileges they claimed flowed 
from his royal grace and favour, and might be with- 
dra\^Ti at his pleasure. 

Such were the wild and dangerous principles v/hich, 
though not originally advanced by the Stuarts, brought 
that devoted family to ruin and disgrace. In the reign 
of Henry the Eighth, the most daring infringements 
of the people's rights (which are inseparably connected 
with the independance of parliament) were suflFered to 
pass unnoticed. In the reign of Elizabeth, the nation 
began to increase in opulence and resources : a spirit 
of inquiry w^as diffused among all ranks j and the re-^ 



176 SIR EDWARD COKE. 

presentatlves began to feel their consequence, though 
they seldom ventured to defend it.. The policy of that 
great princess, and her well-known ardent attachment 
to the honour and happiness of her subject s> silenced all 
opposition to her will : but when James shewed the 
most determined design to trample- on those liberties, 
which had either been legitimately sanctioned, or tacitly 
allowed,, during a long succession of ages ; when he 
extorted: money from his people, merely to squander it 
away on his vicious, favourites y. the parliament, began 
to assume its due constitutional powers, and the nation 
seconded its laudable endeavours* The conflict was re- 
newed and suspended, accordingly as parties clashed or 
were united : but from this period the, separate rights 
of the constituent branches of the government began 
to be ascertained and defined witli a greater degree of 
precision ; and though frequently overlooked in party 
contentions^^ and political rage>, were never quite ibr^ 
gotten, till the glorious fabric of a free governniient 
was completed at the Revolution. 

13 ut to return to the arbitrary proclamation of king^ 
James. The parliament, in its turn alarmed at the 
l^tnguage of this paper, drew up a protest in strong but 
constitutional terms, which was ordered to be entered 
on the journals. James, when apprised of this mea- 
sure, hastened with headlong rage to the house of com*- 
xnons, and with his own hand tore out the protest^ 
whichhe declared to be null and void. He then pro- 
rogued the paiiiament ; and soon after sir Edward 
Coke was sent to the Tower, for the intrepidity which 
he had shewn in asserting the people's. rights. 

Whatever were originally the motives of this illus* 
trious lawyer's opposition to the measures of the court, 
he was now confirmed a patriot. There is a spirit in 
noble minds which rises with injuries, hut is easily, al- 
layed by kindness. He now became sincere and warm, 
ui the cause for: which he had suffered, and. the remaixv 



SIR EDWARD COKE. l77 

der of his life was one scene of steady and honourable 
exertion in the cause of freedom and his country. 

The nation was thrown into a flame by the imperious 
and indecent conduct of James towards the parliament; 
and this desperate act of tearing out the protest from 
the journals of the house of commons, may be justly 
said to have pointed the dagger to the bosom of his 
son and successor, the unhappy Charles. 

Sir Edward was soon liberated, as it could not be 
proved that he had transgressed the limits of his duty; 
but, to disgrace him, he was a second time erased from 
the list of privy-counsellors; when the king compli- 
mented him. by declaring " that he was the iittest in- 
strument for a tyrant that ever was in England,'' though 
it is evident that this could only be said to bring him 
into suspicion with the people. 

During tlie remainder of the reign of James, sir Ed- 
ward seems to have strenuously supported the principles 
which he had avowed, and to have been wholly out of 
favour at court. In the beginning of the next reign, 
when it was found necessary to call a parliament, the 
administration were so apprehensive of his powerful 
talents and expected opposition, that against all de- 
cency and precedent, he was obliged to serve the office 
of high^sherifr of Buckinghamshire, and to attend the 
judges at the assize where he had often presided as lord* 
chief-justice. 

This, however, was only a temporary expedient, to 
silence him. In the parliament of 162(S he was return- 
ed for tlae county of Bucks ; and exerted himself with 
uncommon energy in defending the liberty of the subject 
and the privileges of the commons. He had a principal 
share in drawing up what was called the petition of 
right : which desired, among other particulars, that n© 
loan or tax might be levied but by consent of parlia- 
ment ; that no person might be imprisoned but by legal 
process ; that soldiers should not be quartered on people 



178 SIR EDWARD CaXK. 

against their wills ; and that no commissions should be 
granted for executing martial law. 

The king hesitating to comply with this in direct 
terms, but yet not rejecting it, sir Edward used the most 
inflammatory language ; and urged parliament not to 
depend on the royal professions, but to persist in ob- 
taining the customary sanction '^ which his majesty at 
last reluctantly gave. His whole conduct now bore the 
appearance of insult to his sovereign, rather than of 
that mild and firm patriotism which would have re- 
flected honofur on his memory y and he may be said to 
have been a principal instigator of those measures which 
ended in the temporary destruction of monarchy. 

After the dissolution of this parliament, which hap- 
pened in 1629, he retired to his house at Stoke Pogges 
in Bucks ; where he closed a long life in 16S4, expiring 
with these words in his mouth : <* Thy kingdom come I 
thy will be done V 

Such was the resentment of the court against him^ 
that while he lay on his d^ath-bed, sir Francis Winde- 
bank, by an order of council, searched his house for se-> 
ditious and dangerous papers ; and by virtue of this | 
authority, carried oif his commentary upon Littleton,. • 
the history of his ov\^n life, and numerous manuscriptSs 
together with his very will and testament. At the re- 
quest of his son and heir, seven years afterwards, such 
of his papers as could be found were delivered up ; but 
many of them were irrecoverably lost, and among the 
rest his will. 

Sir Edward Coke was Well-proportioned, and regular 
in his features. In his dress he was neat rather than, 
effeminate ; audit was one of his sentiments,*" that the 
cleanness of a man's clothes ought to put him in mind j 
of keeping all clean within." He possessed great quick-^ 
ntss of parts, a retentive memory, and a solid judgmentJ 
In his profession he was unrivalled ; he had studied irf 
entirely, and he was master of all its parts. He used 



^IR EDWARD COKE. 179 

to say, " that matter lay in little room/' and therefor* 
was concise in his pleadings ; but he was diffuse and ela- 
borate in his set speeches and writings* 

He prided himself on deriving his fortune, his repu- 
tation, and preferments, not from solicitations, flatteryt 
or intrigue, but from his profound knowledge in the 
law. By the gentlemen of his profession he was greatly 
honoured and beloved ; and his reputation as a law- 
writer 13 so firmly established in the courts, that his 
works are considered as indisputable authorities* With 
unexampled diligence he committed every thing to 
writing ; for law was liis element, and he loved it with 
enthusiastic ardour. 

Amidst various vicissitudes of fortune, he nev^r seems 
to have desponded ; and king James used to compare 
him to a cat, that always falls upon its feet. No sooner 
had he suffered a disgrace, than he began to project the 
means of effacing it, and of rising superior to his ene- 
mies. The steps which he took, the line of conduct 
which he pursued, were not always the most dignified, 
but they seem in general to have been the most effectual 
Jto answer the intended purpose. 

He was partial to men of merit, though not an abso- 
lute Mecenas: and having many benefices in his owa 
patronage, he was careful to bestow them gratuitously 
on the most deserving clergymen ; declaring, in the 
technical language of his profession, " that he would. 
have church preferment pass by livery and seisifiy not by 
bargain and sale.'' 



( 180 ) 
THOMAS WENTWORTH, 

EARL OF STRAFFORD, 

Born 1593— Beheaded 1641. 

From S5tb EU%ahetby to \6th Cbar'es L 

IT is one unhappy consequence of factious and per- 
turbed times, that the characters of the principal per- 
formers in the drama are seen through a false medium. 
By their partisans they are exhibited as immaculate ; by*' 
their enemies, as devoid of every virtue. The unfortu- 
nate earl of Strafford is among the number of those 
whom the fatal contest between prerogative and consti- 
tutional liberty consigned to a premature grave ; and so 
variously have his qualities been estimated, that they 
must be inferred from impartially reviewing the tenor 
of his conduct, not from the colours in which they have 
been dressed by either his favourers or opponents. 

Thomas Wentworth was descended from a very an* 
cient family, seated at Wentworth in Yorkshire. His 
father was a baronet ; and his mother, daughter and 
heiress of sir Robert Atkins, of the county of Glouces- 
ter. He was born in London : and after a proper 
grammatical education, was entered of St. John's col- 
lege Cambridge, where his diligence and application to 
literature and science soon rendered him conspicuous. 
Being born, however, to a great fortune, his studies 
were directed with no view to any particular profession^ 
and as it was his principal object to complete the cha- 
racter of a gentleman, after quitting tlie university he 
set out on foreign travels. 

By the time when he had reached the age of twenty- 
one, his father died ; and the baronetage, and family 
estate of about six thousand pounds a year, devolved 
on him. From his property and influence, he was ap- 
pointed eustos roiulorum of Yoikshire, and was early 
3 



EARL OF STRAFFORD* 181 

elected a representative for that county in parliaments 
On his first essays in the grand theatre of public life, 
history is silent : but in the new parliament on the ac- 
cession of Charles the First, he enlisted under the ban- 
ners of opposition ; and became so formidable by his 
eloquence, that to prevent its display he was nominated 
high sheriff of Yorkshire in 1626, and the same year 
put under an arrest for refusing his contribution to am 
arbitrary loan. 

In the parliament of 1628, however, he strenuously 
exerted himself to obtain a redress of grievances ; and 
with great severity blaming the conduct of ministers 
while he exonerated the king, his immediate object was 
not suspected by the party with which he had connected 
himself. 

His talents and influence were now so universally ac- 
knowledged, that It was worth some sacrifices to secure 
them. It was found by administration that he had his 
price ; and a peerage, with the presidentship of the 
north, were the terms of his surrender into the arms of 
the court. At first, however, he affected seme reluc- 
tance, and seemed ashamed to avow his apostasy ; but 
wishing to magnify his services, he at last threw off his 
disguise to the popular leader Pym, and endeavoured 
U> gain him as an associate in his new character. Pym 
was not so easily won : and replied in bitter but pro- 
phetic terms ; " You have left us, but I will not leave 
you while your head is on your shoulders !" 

Being shunned by his former friends, he sought con- 
solation in acquiring new ; particularly archbishop 
Laud, with whom he formed a close intimacy, and 
whose measures he vigorously supported. As president 
of the north he behaved with great severity, and in 
some cases with puerile Insolence ; for he committed 
the son of lord Falconberg for no offence but neglect- 
ing to move his hat to him, though it appeared that the 
young nobleman was actually looking another way 
when tlie president expected this compliment. 



182 EARL^F STRAFFORD* 

He was afterwards promoted to the high office of 
lord deputy of Ireland, with very ample powers, which 
were still too limited for his ambition. In this situation 
lie*^istinguished himself by his arbitrary measures, and 
his fondness for pomp ; but his government, on the 
'whole, was so prudent and decisive, that he improved 
the finances in a wonderful degree, and brought the 
Irish church to a perfect uniformity with that of Eng- 
land. Regarding Ireland as a conquered country, he 
did not hesitate to enforce his authority by exertions be-< 
yond the law, ami treated some of the most illustrious , 
peers of that kingdom with an arrogance which admits 
of no exxuse. He imprisoned the earl of Kildare for 
opposing his propositions to parliament ; and on a pri- 
vate misunderstanding provoked by his own insolence, 
brought lord Mountmorres to trial by a court-martial, 
which condemned him to die. The sentence was indeed 
mitigated ; but this nobleman was stript of an estate, 
and of all his employments civil and military, obliged 
to acknowledge the justice of his doom, and to suffer 
three years imprisonment. 

Such conduct must have alienated the affections of 
the most submissive people ; nor was it politically neces- 
sary. The exercise of duty sometimes requires and 
justifies prompt and severe measures, but private resent- 
ment should never appear in the dispensation of justice. 
Notwithstanding those notorious defects in his admini- 
stration, he succeeded so far in awing the turbulent, and* 
replenishing the treasury, that his majesty, as a further 
proof of approbation, created him earl of Strafford, 
and knight of the garter. 

By the same means by which he gained the favour of . 
his sovereign, he lost all confidence with the people ; 
who singled him out as the first victim of their ven- 
geance. 

Immediately after the opening of the Long Parlia- 
ment in 1640, his implacable enemy, Pym, having 
harangued the house in a long and eloquent speech on 



EARL OF STRAffORD. 183 

ihegrkvances of the nation, and finding that he had 
inflamed his auditors to a proper pitch, concluded bjr 
branding the earl of Strafford with the most odious ap- 
peliations ; representing him as the most inveterate foe 
to the liberties of his country, and the greatest promo- 
ter of tyianny that any age had produced. The house 
beuig thus filed with the most indignant emotions, a 
motion was suddenly made and carried, " that the earl 
of Strafford be immediately impeached of high treason ; 
and tiiat xMr. Pjm do carry up tlie said impeachment 
to the lords."' 

Accordingly Pym appeared at the bar of the house 
of lords ; and, having impeached him in the jiame of all 
tiie^ commons of England, requested that he might be 
sequestered from all councils, and put into safe custody. 
The earl, being then in England, had that very day 
taken his seat in the house. Some friends had given him 
warning that it was in contemplation to attach him, and 
advised him to absent himself: but Strafford, spumin-. 
a conduct which might expose him to the imputation of 
pusilhuumity, or perhaps thinking: himself secure ir 
royal protection, appeared in his pi ice; and immediately 
upon his impeaclynent was committed to custodv, and 
some days after lodged in the Tower. 

So sudden was the transition of thh 'll-fated m.ijleman 
from the height of power to the mktncs of confinement, 
tnat reflection cannot help n>oraii/.i;,;x on Im fate ; and 
wliatever may have beer, his errors or liis crimes, frem 
this moment he became respecta'ale in die eves of ever v 
person who can honour tme magnanimity and pai^cnc ' 
resignation. 

Twenty-eiglit articles were prepared and exii,bited 
agamst him ; chiefly relating to Jiis conduct as president 
of the council in the north, as governor of Ireland, and 
as counsellor and commander in England. Some of 
these were frivolous, and otliers vexatious : on them ' e 
nught have been convicted of verv serious ^iisd •■-,■ „ 



1S4 KARL OF STRAPFORB- 

aiirs ; but with all the iHgenuity of malice, it seems im- 
possible to have done more. His accusers therefore, 
after a protracted trial of eighteen days, during which 
the earl was collected and £rm in an astonishing degree, 
finding that they could not legally substantiate the 
charges against him, dropped diis mode of procedure, and 
brought in a bill of attainder. Accordingly it was voted, 
on the evidence which had been produced, '' that the 
^arl of Strafford had endeavoured to subvert the funda- 
mental laws of the kingdom, and introduce an arbitrary 
and tyrannical government into the realms of England 
and Ireland -/' and as a consequence of those positions, 
>« that he was guilty of high-treason." 

A few days after, this bill passed the commons by a 
great majority ; but being carried to the house of peers, 
the popular party, alarmed lest^they should be defeated 
in their meditated vengeance by the moderation or jus- 
tice of that assembly, procured petitions, from forty- 
three thousand inhabitants of London, urging the execu- 
tion of justice on the earl of Strafford, and setting forth 
some real or imaginary fears and suspicions of attempts 
against the independance of parliament. 

The king on the other hand, from anxiety to save 
one of his most devoted servants, breaking through 
those forms which the constitution has wisely established, 
appeared in parliament, and made an energetic and 
feeling speech in favour of the earl: conjuring them 
not to proceed to the last extremities with the accused ; 
as he could not, in conscience, think him guilty of 
treason, but only of misdemeanours, for which his, ma. 
jesty allowed that he ought to be dismissed from his 
councils and service for ever. 

This moderate though irregular appeal by the kmg 
to the national representation, it might have been sup- 
posed would not have been in vain ; but so jealous had I 
the commons become of the exercise of prerogative, that ' 
Ihey would scarcely allow Charles, without suspicion, . 



EARL OF STRAfl'ORD, 185 

liie feelings of a man. His interference was taken in 
the very worst sense, and w^as made use of as a pretext 
to" hasten the catastrophe. Indeed, wlien some of the 
sanguine but weak friends of Strafford ran with joy to 
inform him how warmly the king had pleaded his cause, 
the earl, more penetrating and sagacious, saw that his 
doom was sealed, and that he had only to prepare for 
death. 

The lords,, however, seem to have proceeded wndi 
great deliberation in passing the bill of attainder ; but 
the house was incessantly surrounded with mobs in hos- 
tile array, w^ho were clamorous for justice, while every 
avenue of the royal palace echoed wdth the sound. 

In tliis situation, decision became an imperious duty : 
and in order to allay tlie popular ferment, both houses 
were obliged to sign a protestation, the purport of which 
vvas, that each individual would exert himself to the ut- 
most to defend the establislied rehgion, and the privi- 
leges of parliament ; and likewise do all in his power to 
bring to condign punishment all who, by force or con- 
spiracy, plotted against either. With this the populace 
w^ere satisfied, and quietly dispersed. 

The Irish no sooner discovered tliat a man whose 
government had been so obnoxious to them w^as under 
trial, than they sent a deputation to both houses, to re- 
present their own grounds of complaint ^ by v/hich the 
charges brought against Strafford in England were par- 
tially substantiated, and his condemnation was rendered 
certain. 

So vigilant, indeed, were the commons; so apprehen- 
sive that the accused might be fraudulently delivered oui 
of tlieir hands, or have any possibility of escaping ; that 
they petitioned to have the guards at the Tower strengtii- 
ened : and\vhea it was reported that the military powder 
in that fortress was about to be committed to a friend of 
Strafford's, they remonstrated against such an appolnt- 
xpenty and the king was obliged to withdraw the order, 
I 2 - 



186 EARI. OF STRAFFORD, 

Being secure in this respect, thev meditated schemes 
still more prejudicial to the constitution ; and, as it often 
happens in public and private contentions, the aggrieved 
became the aggressor. Charles had been loudly cen- 
sured for betraying an inclination to extend the preroga- 
tive, but the commons now took a step which violated 
all constitutional authority. P'oreseeing that in the last 
extremity the king might dissolve the parliament, and 
by this means elude their vengeance against Strafford, 
they declaimed their sitting permanent, at least till both 
houses should agree to a dissolution. 

The matter was now brought to a crisis. Charles 
immediately summoned his privy-council : and the pre- 
vailing advice w;ls, to satisfy the wishes of his people ; 
on the ground tliat the life of one man was not to be 
balanced with the tranquillity and safety of the kingdom. 
The conscientious though infatuated king still felt all the 
anguish of regret at the idea of being obliged to puss 
sentence on a man whom he esteemed as one of his rnost 
faithful servants, and who was suffering only in his 
cause. He was irresolute, and distracted by contending 
principles. 

Strafford, being apprised of his royal master's di- 
stress, with a sense of duty and attacliment of which 
there are few examples, wrote a most pathetic letter to 
the king, conjuring him to pass the bill which was to 
remove him from the stage of life, in hopes that this 
measure would for ever establish harmony between the 
sovereign and his people ; adding, '• that his consent 
would more acquit his majesty to God, than all the 
world could do besides." **= To a wilHng man," said 
he, " there can be no injury done." 

After passing two days and nights in a state of per- 
plexity not to be described, harassed by his parliament, 
beset by his people, and advised by his cabinet to sub- 
mit* Charles at last signed the fatal warrant for execu* 
tiofi, and by this act paved the way for his own downfall. 



EARL OF STRAFFORP. 187 

On the 12th of May 1641, the earl cf Stratford was 
brought to the scafFoid on Tower-hill : he ascended it 
with perfect composure, and took an affectionate fare- 
well of his relations and friends. To his brother, who 
was weeping excessively, he thus addressed himself with 
a cheerful countenance : " What do you see in me to 
deserve these tears ? Does any indecent fear betray in 
me a guilt, or my innocent boldness any atheism ? 
Think now you are accompanying me the third time 
to my marriage-bed. Never did I throw off my clothes 
with greater freedom and content, jhan in this prepa- 
ration to my grave. That stock,'' pointing to the 
block, " must be my pillow ; here shall I rest from all 
my labours : i>o thoughts of envy, no dreams of trea- 
son, no jealousies nor cares for the king, the state, or 
myself, shall interrupt this easy sleep. Therefore, 
brother, with me, pity those who, contrary to their in- 
tentions, have m-^de me happy. Rejoice in my felicity, 
rejoice in my innocence.'' 

Then kneeling down, he made the following ani- 
mated protestation : " I hope, gentlemen, you will not 
think that either the fear of loss of life, or the love 
of reputation, will suffer me to belie my God and my 
own conscience at such a moment. I am now in the 
very door gding out ; and my next step will be from 
time to eternity, either of peace or pain. To clear my- 
self before you all, I do here solemnly call God to wit- 
ness, I am not guilty, so far as I can understand, of the 
great crime laid to my charge : nor have I ever had 
the least inclination or intention to prejudice the king, 
the state, the laws, or the religion of this kingdom ; 
but with my best endeavours to serve all, and to sup- 
port all. So may God be merciful to my soul !" 

Then rising up, he expressed his desire of addressing 
the people : and a profound silence ensuing, he made 
an animated and pathetic harangue ; in which he excul- 
pated hijnself of every principal charge that had been 



188 £ARL OF STRAFFORD. 

alleged against him ; professed the rectitude of liis 
heart, and his attachment to his royal master and the 
constitution in church and state ; declared his forgive- 
ness of all his enemies, and concluded with requesting 
the pardon of all whom he had offended byword ordeecL 

Having finished, he saluted the friends who attended 
him on the scaffold, desiring their prayers ; and with 
the utmost devotion addressed himself to heaven for 
nearly- half an hour, concluding with the Loral's 
Prayer. 

After this he sent his last blessing to his family, in 
terms of the warmest affection ; and, preparing himself 
for the block, laid down his head with surprising forti- 
tude and calmness, and at one blow he was no more. . 

Notwithstanding the dignified manner in which the 
earl of Strafford had conducted himself in this last scene, 
no tears from the people attended his death. On the 
contrary, his execution was regarded as a matter of 
triumph ; and numbers Vvho had iiocked to see it, re- 
turned into die country waving their hats in all tiie ex- 
ultation of barbarous joy. 

The abilities of Strafford were far above mediocrity, 
and his eloquence was very considerable. In point of 
personal courage, and those accomplishments which 
befit the gentleman, he deserved high praise ; but at 
the same time it must be confessed that he was inordi- 
nately ambitious, arrogant, and passionate. In his 
manner of living he practised habitual temperance, and 
his application to business was extreme. In private 
life he is represented as a warm and generous friend ; 
and had he lived in a more tranquil age, or figured in. 
a less public theatre, he might have descended to a 
peaceful grave, not only without censure, but with ap- 
plause. 

After the Restoration, the bill of attainder was re- 
versed as a stigma on the national justice, aad his sen 
inherited his titles and estates. 



V ( 189 ) 
JOHN HAMPDEN. 

Born 1594— Died 1643. 

From SGtb Elizabeth tol^tb Charles L 

TO appreciate the real merits of political men from 
tlie history of our ov/n times, is- a most difficult task. 
The best intention is too often sullied by the event ; 
and prejudice, or partiality, sees with distorted eyes the 
•eries of causes which lead to an important catastrophe*:- 
But an impartial posterity removes the glare of false 
colouring ; and estimates character from its obvious 
tendency to good or evil, its innate propensity to^ virtue 
or vice. 

While the long-exploded doctrmes of passive obe- 
dience and non-resistance were in vogue, Hampden vst^s 
pourtrayed as the Catiline of his age : but no sooner 
did constitutioiTiU liberty assume i:.i proper form, and 
the interest and the glory of the sovereign become in- 
timaiely and indlssolubly united vvith tlicse of the 
people, than he was regarded as tlia* champion of his 
country's rights, and a martyr for her independance. 

John Hampden was descended from a long line of 
ancestors settled at Great Hampden in Buckingham- 
shire, and by the maternal side wa.s nearly related to 
Ohver Cromwell. London claims the honour of his 
birtli ; but this unimportant point rests only on tradi- 
tion, and indeed a dark veil is throvv'n over his. early 
years. There are no traces of the future patriot in his 
juvenile days ; no indications of the character v/hich he 
was about to assume, or the part which he was de- 
stined to perform. Actions are frequently the result 
of fortuitous circumstances, and talents are elicited by 
the pressure of the moment. Had Hampden been 
born at any other period, or met with less urgent occa-- 
-^nris for a display of his patriotism, it is probable that 



H}0 JOHN HAMPDEN, 

his name might now have been unknown to feme. 
Thousands are carried down die stream of oblivion, 
without ever having an opportunity of disclosing their 
virtues or their vices ; and join their kiaidred dust, un- 
noticed and unregarded. 

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 

Some heart once pregnant with celestial iire: 

Hands that the rod cf empire might have sway'd, 
Or v/ak*d to ecstasy the living lyre. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark imfathom'd caves of ocean bear; 
' Full many a flow'r is born to blush unseen. 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast 
The little tyrant of his fields withstood 5 

Some mute inglorious Milton, here may rest j 
Some Cromwell, guikless of his country's bloo^. 

Gray's Elegy, 

About the fifteenth year of his age, he was admitted 
a gentleman commoner of Magdalen college, Oxford j 
wl^ence he removed, without taking any degree, to the 
inns of court. His progress in the study of the laws 
appears to have been considerable 5 and he might per- 
ftaps have made a distinguished figure at the bar, had 
not the death of his father early put him into pos* 
session of a splendid fortune. 

In the bosom of affluence, without a check on hia 
youthful passions, it is said that he gave way to the na* : 
tural consequences of such a situation, and ran into ; 
tfce usual dissipations of young men of fortune 5 but 
T/ithout that degradation of character and probity which 
some incur. His reason soon recalled him from every ' 
excess ; and he began to associate with persons of 
more austere and correct manners, while his natural 
vivacity of temper remained the same. 

Though undeviating wisdom may- not always attend 
the young, in every sensible mind there is a germ of 



JOHN HAMPDEN. 191 

reflection ; and happy is it for those who early arrive at 
the stationary point of moderation. Hampden's views 
seem to have expanded with his change of manners ; 
and he qualified himself in the shade for the public part 
which he was afterwards called to perform. 

Having married a lady of considerable fortune and 
connections, he was returned to parliament in 1626 ; 
and, espousing the popular cause, was strenupus in 
promoting an inquiry into the national grievances. 
His shrewdness and talents for oratory recommended 
him to the leading men of his party, and his resolution 
soon made him conspicuous. He protested against le- 
vying th^ duties of tonnage and poundage, with pecu- 
liar vehemence; and was taken into custody for re- 
fusing to advance money on loans not sanctioned by 
the voice of parliament. 

The applause which this conduct gained him from 
the people, fixed his principles ; for it appears to have 
been the character of Hampden to advance with cau- 
tion, but never to recede with wavering steps. It was 
not, however, till 1636 that his energy and fortitude 
distinguished him from the rest of his fellow-patriots. 
At that time, when arbitrary power was making con- 
tinual encroachments on the liberty of the subject, and 
had almost reached its height of violence, Charles, by 
one stroke of impolicy, committed himself with an in- 
dividual, and eventually with the nation. Hampden 
had been assessed the small sum of twenty shillings, in 
aid of what was called ship-money ; which was attempt- 
ed to be raised by a writ under the great seal, without 
the concurrence of parliament. He singly resisted this 
illegal exaction ; unawed by authority, undaunted by 
menaces, unabashed by calumny, and incorruptible by 
bribes. The cause was brought to trial in the court of 
exchequer, and solemnly argued by the collective abi- 
lities of the bar for twelve days successively ; but, as 
might naturally be expected, judgm.ent went against 
I 5 



192 JOHN HAMPPEN. 

him. According to Clarendon however, who was net 
one of his panegyrists, he conducted himself in this 
great trial with such temper and modesty, that he ac- 
tually obtained more credit by losing, than the king 
did himself service by gaining it. What had been hi- 
therto yielded from affection, was now paid with mur- 
muring reluctance ; and the eyes ©f all men were 
turned on Hampden, as the pilot who was to con- 
duct them through the storm, the champion who was 
to contend for the legal rights of all. 

His popularity now became so great, that he was re- 
garded as the father of his country, and the intrepid 
assertor of its liberties. He received the glorious ap- 
pellation of the Patriot Hampden, and this title he 
never forfeited. He watched every measure of the 
court with jealous circumspection ; and defeated every 
attempt against civil liberty, with a prudence that en- 
titled him to respect even from his opponents, and with 
a zeal that nothing could withstand. As the deposi- 
tary of the national confidence, he held his trust most 
sacred ; yet he appears to have been actuated by no 
motives of personal hostility to his. sovereign, nor views 
of aggrandizement for himself. 

If he resisted arbitrary power, k was to preserve the 
constitution inviolate ; and on the meeting of the Long 
Parliament in 1640, his power and interest to do good 
or harm, in the opinion of lord Clarendon, were 
greater than any man's in the kingdom, or than an 3/ 
:man of his rank had possessed at any time. His re*- 
putation for honesty was universal ; and he appeared 
to be guided by such public principles, that no private 
or sinister ends could give them an improper bias. 

Having taken an active part in the prosecution of 
Strafford and Laud, it is said that Hair^pden, after the 
removal of thosp obnoxious persons, was unwilling to 
proceed further to extremities ; and in consequence pro- 
jected a union ef parties; aspiring to none of the splen» 



JOKfN HAMPDEN. 193 

did and lucrative offices of die state for himself, but 
merely to the appointment of being tutor to tlie prince 
of Wales. He was sensible that the misfortunes of the 
nation arose from the mistaken principles of the sove- 
reign ; and anxious to correct rather tlian to overthrow 
tlie constitution, he rationally concluded that he could- 
not perform a more essential service to his country, 
tlian by forming tlie young prince's mind to legitimate 
sentiments of government. At first it appears that 
. Charles listened to proposals of accommodation : but 
he afterw'ards retracted his Gonx:essions ; and this appa- 
rent want of sincerity determined tlie part that Hamj>- 
den was to act. 

The parliam.ent now saw there v^^s no alternative but 
implicit submission or open resistance ; and the scene 
began to unfold which gradually deluged the country 
in blood, and opened the flood-gates of anarchy. As 
Charles levied forces by his prerogative, tlie parliament^ 
f^dreseeing against whom these troops were to be di- 
rected, raised an army for the defence of the state, and 
Hampden accepted the command of a regiment of foot 
in their service. 

As he had been instnimxental in bringing mattei's to 
this crisis, so he was one of the first that commenced 
the civil war.. The king had placed a garrison at Brill 
in Buckinghamshire, a few miles from Oxford, the 
situation of w^hich gave it considerable importance. 
This station- Hampden attacked, and displayed the 
same courage in the field as eloquence in the senate. 
But his military career was of short, deration : for he 
was soon after mortally wounded^ in > a skirmish with 
prince Rupert in Chalgrove-field, near Thame in Ox- 
fordshire ; and, after languishing six days,- diedy to the 
unspeakable regret and consternation, of his party. His 
incautious bravery precipitated his fate; and die roy- 
alists exulted in his deatli as if the dispute had thus 
been settled, and considered it as a just judgment on 



194 JOHN HAMPDEN, 

the most active partisan of rebellion. Yet the king^ 
when he heard of Hampden's situation, sent his own 
physician to attend him, as a mark of personal respect ; 
and to judge from the antecedent conduct of Hamp- 
den, tli is favour, if he had lived, would have been re- 
turned with addition. His natural disposition, the in- 
tegrity of his heart, and the influence which he had 
acquired, would probably have co-operated to save, 
both the king and the constitution from final destruc-,^ 
tion. Though he had resisted the encroachments of 
arbitrary power, he would have bowed to legitimate 
authority ; and had his life been spared, it can scarcely 
be doubted that he would have opposed the usurpation 
of Cromwell with equal resolution and success. The 
credit which he had gained, would have speedily raised 
him to the command of the army ; and as he was never 
known to exercise authority but for what he regarded as 
the public good, it may charitably be presumed that - 
he would have listened with pleasure to the concessions 
which the unhappy Charles was afterwards induced to 
make. 

Let the fate however of Hampden, and the conse- 
quences which ensued from his opposition, pure as it 
might be, teach .the propriety of lenient measures, and 
the extreme danger of engaging in civil conflicts. The 
first agents in reform may possibly be influenced by 
the most patriotic views ; but when once popular op- 
position is roused,^ and the bands of established govern- 
ment are loosened, the power may soon be wrested from 
the hands which before wielded it, and be usurped by 
men of the most corrupt principles. Then flows in all 
the tide of misery which the virtuous seek to avoid, 
but tlie impetuosity of which they are unable to re- 
strain. The history of all ages and of all nations con- 
firms this incontrovertible maxim : *< that violence 
may demolish, but cannot repair ; and that every me- 
lioration of the constitution of a country must be efFec- 
2 



J'OHN HAMPBENp 193 

tuated by gradual and almost imperceptible meaiis, in 
order to render it salutary and permanent." 

The character of a man who stands so prominent on 
the historic canvass of the period in which he lived, and 
who may furnish both an incentive and a warning to fii- 
4:ure patriots, ought not to be dismissed without further 
notice. It is unnecessary, however, to attempt to 
draw a new character. The dark side has been forcibly 
delineated by the noble historian of the civil wars, and 
the bright by the celebrated Mrs. Macaulay. As a 
proof of impartiality, both are here subjoined ; nor can 
either be read without advantage. 

" He was,^' says lord Clarendon, " a man of great 
cunning, and, it may be, of the most discerning spirit; 
and of the greatest address and insinuation to bring 
any thing to pass which he desired, of any man of that 
time, and who laid the design deepest. He was of that 
rare affability and temper in debate, and of that seem- 
ing humility and submission of judgment, as if he 
brought no opinion of his own with him, but a desire 
of information and instruction ; yet he had so subtle a 
way, and* under the notion of doubts insinuating his 
objections, that he infused his own opinions into those 
from whom he pretended to learn and receive them* 
And even with them who were able to preserve them- 
selves from his infusions, and discerned those opinions 
te be ^xed in him with which they could not comply, 
he always left the character of an ingenuous and con- 
scientious person. He was indeed a very wise man, 
and of great parts ; and possessed with the most abso- 
lute spirit of popularity, and the most absolute faculties 
to govern the people, of any man I ever knew. For 
the first year of the parliament, he seemed rather to 
moderate and soften the violent and distempered hu- 
mours, than to inflame them. But wise and dispassion- 
ate men plainly discerned that that moderation pro- 
ceeded from prudence, and observation that the season 



K)6 jr)H>- HAMif^DEN; 

was not ripe, rather than tliat he approved of the mo- 
deration : and that he begot many opinions and no- 
tions, the education whereof he committed to other 
men ; so far disguising his own designs, that he seemed 
seldom to wish more than \\^is conduded. ^And in 
many gross conclusions, which would hereafter contri- 
bute to designs, not yet set on foot, wten. he. found 
them sufficiently backed by a majority of voices, he 
would vrithdraw himself before the question, that 
he might seem, not to consent to so much visible 
unreasonableness ;. which produced as great a doubt in 
some, as it did approbation in others, of his- integrity. 
After he was among those members accused by the 
king of h4ghrtreason,,he was much altered; his nature 
and carriage seeming much fiercer than it did before: 
and without question, when he first drew, his sword, he 
threw away the scabbard. He was very temperate in 
diet ; and a suprem.e governor overall his passions-and : 
aifections,, and had thereby a great power over other 
men's. He was of an industry and vigilance not to be 
tired out or wearied by the mostJaborious, and of parts 
not to be imposed. upon by the most subtle and sharps 
and of a personal courage equal to his best parts: so 
that he was an enemy not to be wished, wherever he 
might have been made a friend.; and, as much to be 
apprehended where he was so, as any man, could de- 
serve to be. And therefore his death was no less 
pleasing to the one party, tlian it was condoled in , the ■ 
other. In a word, what was said of Cinna might. well 
be applied to him :. he had. a. head to contrive, a tongue 
to persuade, and a hand to execute any mischief.;. oXi , 
as the historian says elsewhere, any good." 

"Clarendon," remarks Mrs. Macaulay, <' has pre-- 
tended to draw the exact portraiture of this eminent 
personage ;. but though marked with those partial lines 
which distinguish the hand of the historian, it is the 
testimony of an enemy to virtues possessed only by tb§;- 



JOHN KAMPDEN. 19^ 

i foremost rank of men. With all the talents and vir- 
tues which render private life useful, amiable, and re- 
spectable, were united in Hampden, in the highest 
degree, those excellences which guide the jarring opi- 
nions of popular counsels to determined points ; and 
whilst he penetrated into the m.ost secret designs of 
©ther men, he never discovered more of his own incli- 
nations than was necessary to. the purpose in. hand. In 
debate he was so much a master, that, joining the art 
of Socrates with tlie graces of Cicero,, he fixed his 
own opinion under the modest guise of desiring to im- 
prove by that of others ; and, contrary to the nature 
of disputes, left a pleasing impression, which preju- 
diced his antagonist in his favour, even when he had 
not convinced or altered his judgmient. His carriage 
was so generally, uniformly, and unaiFeetedly, affable; 
his conversation so enlivened by his vivacity, so sea- 
soned by his knowledge and imderstanding, and so 
well applied to tlie genius, humour, and prejudices, 

J of those he conversed with, that his talents to gain 
popularity were absolute. With qualities of this high 
nature, he possessed in council penetration and discern*- 

I ment, with a sagacity on which no one could impose, 

j an industry and vigilance which were indefatigable^ 

! with the entire mastery of his passions and affections ; 

! an advantage which gave him infinite superiority over 
less regulated minds. It was he whom the party re- 
lied on to animate the cold counsels of their generaL; 

j it was his- example and influence they trusted to keep 
him honest to the interest of the public, and to pre- 
serve to the parliament the affections of the army. 
Had he been at first appointed to the supreme military 
command, the civil war, under all the horrors of 
which the country languished more than three years, 
would have been but of a short continuance. 



( 198 ) 
DR. WILLIAM HARVEY. 

Born 1578— Died 1657. 
» Frojn 20th Elt%abeth to Sth Charles 11. 

IN every walk of life, and in every profession, Britain 
has reason to be proud of her sons. The healing art, 
in particular, has not only been carried to a very great ^ 
degree of practical perfection by some of our illus- 
trious countrymen, but many of the most valuable 
and salutary discoveries in physiology and anatomy 
exclusively belong to them. No medical author, how- 
ever, has gained more glory than Harvey. His in- 
vestigations led to the most important ends, and tend 
to the benefit of all mankind to the latest posterity. 
They throw a lustre on his profession and his name, 
which envy cannot tarnish or malevolence conceal. 

This celebrated physician was the eldest son of a 
genteel family settled at Folkstone in Kent. When he 
had reached his tenth year, he was sent to the gram- 
mar-school at Canterbury ; where being well stored 
with classical learning, he was removed at an early 
age to Gonvil and Calus college, Cambridge. In this 
university he diligently applied to such studies as were 
fundamentally connected with medicine ; and after six 
years spent here, he commenced his foreign travels, 
with a view solely to proficiency in his destined pro- 
fession. Retiring to Padua in Italy, he attended the 
lectures of the famous Fabriciris of Aquapendente, on 
anatomy ; of Minodaus, on pharmacy ; and of Casse- 
rius, on surgery. Under such distinguished masters, 
with a mind naturally inquisitive, and wholly devoted 
to medical studies and researches^ his progress must 
have been rapid ; but whether he had yet conceived 
the idea which led to his future fame, cannot now be 
ascertained. He staid to take a degree in that uni- 



DR, WILLIAM HARVEY. 199 

rersity, and at the age of twenty-four returned to his 
native country. 

Being immediately admitted doctor in physic at 
Cambridge, he settled m London, and entered on the 
practice of his profession. By gradual advances he 
rose to considerable eminence ; was chosen a fellow of 
the college of physicians, and appointed physician to 
St. Bartholomew's hospital. 

In 1615 he was chosen by the college to read an 
anatomical and chirurgical lecture ; and it is probable 
that this gave him the first opportunity of disclosing 
his sentiments respecting the peculiar structure of the 
heart; and the circulation of the blood. His ideas on 
this subject he threw out with caution, and gradually- 
developed the important principles to which they led ; 
but when he had thoroughly canvassed his own hypo- 
thesis, fortified it by arguments, and confirm^ed it by 
repeated experiments, he published at Frankfort a La- 
tin treatise concerning the motion of the heart and 
blood. This work, in the opinion of the best judges, 
is a master-piece of perspicuity in arrangement, and 
of strong reasonmg ; nor was its literary merit inferior 
to the sublime doctrines which it was intended to 
establish. 

But though Harvey's discovery was of the greatest 
importance in the healing art ; and deserved the candid 
reception, if not the high approbation, of aU ; he met 
with that fate which superior merit must not hope to 
escape. He was envied by those who could not com- 
prehend the value of his doctrine ; he was traduced by 
the dull plodders in the trammels of established preju- 
dices, who could not reach his heights. His own pro- 
fession, in particular, for some time regarded his opinions 
as heretical or dangerous ; and though they were not 
able to confute him, they raised a war of words, in 
which argument was lost, and truth and reason were 
treated as tlie worst of foes. It appears from a letter 



200 DR, WILLIAM HARVEY, 

of Harvey to one of his friends^ that in proportion as 
he deserved reputation his practice as a physician di* 
minished ; and that the most ignoble arts were used to 
depress a man whom obloquy could iiot depreciate, and 
whose applause was one day to become universal through 
the world. 

Even foreign physicians entered warmly into the con- 
troversy; and either attacked the truth of his hypothesis,, 
er denied him tlie praise of originality^ It i-s thus in 
every branch of science, and in every great and merito- 
rious performance. Those who have benefited or en- 
lightened mankind have too frequently been made the 
victims of their virtues- or their knowledge; and envy,, 
which cannot endure to behold hving worth,, has relent-- 
ed only at the grave^ 

But Harvey, though he suffered from tlie storm, had. 
the singular felicity to outlive its fury y and to see th(? 
worlds pressing forward to pay him the liomage due to-. 
an original genius, and a bciiciartar or his kuid. llie 
more his system was criticised, tne more Its vuli iity was 
established ; like gold which has been tried, and comes 
brighter out of the furnace. By degrees the circulation 
of the blood was ge3;ierally ;?jdmitted ^. and mea began to 
wonder how such a palpable truth had so long .been un- 
discovered, and still more so long opposed. 

In 1623 king Jam^es the First appointed Dr. Harvey 
a supernumerary physician in ordinary^ with a promise 
that he should be pla-ced on the royal estab>lishment at 
the first vacancy. He was afterwards made physician 
to Charles the First ; and attended his majesty at the bat- 
tle of Edge-hill, and thence to Oxford, where he was 
incorporated doctor in physic. Soon after, by tlie king's 
particular recommendation, he was elected warden of 
M-erton college in that university ; but th-e power of the 
parliam^ent prevailing, he wa$ obliged to relinquish thi5- 
eiTice, and retired to the neighbourhood of London* 

In L651 he published a very valuable book on. the 



DR. WILLIAM HARVEY. 20 1 

generation of animals ; but being unacceptable to the 
parliamentary party for his adherence to Charles, his 
house was plundered of all the furniture, and all his 
manuscripts were carried off and irrevocably lost. 

Next year howevef, having lived to silence envy, and 
to make opposition ashamed of shewing its face, a statue 
was erected tO/his Iionour by the college of physicians; 
and two years afterwards he was chosen president of 
that body, in his absence. This distinction he declined 
v/ith due acknowledgements, on account 'cf his age 
and increasing infirmities ; but as a testimony of his 
gratitude, having no children, he made the college his 
heirs, and settled his whole paternal estate upon tliem^ 
He had previously built a room for them to assemble 
in, and fitted up a library : and now^ he instituted an 
annual commemoration of benefactors, with a proper 
^salary; and attended the first, In person. The Har- 
veian oration still continues to be delivered : and the 
aspiring and ingenious physician who is appointed to prc« 
nounce it, has thus an honourable opportunity of shew- 
ing his taste, his learning, his skill, or his discoveries, 
before the most competent judges of his art. 

During the latter part of his life, Harvey became a 
victim to the gout ; and resigned his breath vrith gene- 
ral admiration and regret, on the 3d of June 1657. He 
was burled at Hempstead in Essex, where a monument 
was erected to his memory. 

Besides an eminent skill in every branch of science 
more immediately connected with his profession, he v/as 
well versed in general literature. He was laboriously 
studious, regular, and virtuous in his life; and not only 
an excellent physician, but an excellent man. His 
modesty, his candour, and his piety, were equal to his 
knowledge ; and the more he penetrated into the won- 
ders of nature, the more he was inclined to adore its d*« 
vine author. With regard to his grand discovery, thcj 
rirculatioTi of the blood, it was soon confessed- to be. 



202 ADMIRAL BLAKE* 

founded on the solid basis of reason and experience, and 
can never be controverted again. Of what consequence 
it was in the art of medicine, may be inferred from this 
circumstance ; that it is perliaps impossible to define 
liealth and sickness in fewer words, than by styling the 
former a free and the latter an obstructed circulation. 



ADMIRAL BLAKE. 

Bom 1599— Died 1659. 
Fram 41j/ Elizabeth to lOth Charhs II, 

NEVER was our national glory greater among fo- 
reigners than during the usurpation of Cromwell, and 
never was it more disgraced at home. Fanaticism and^ 
imposture pervaded all ranks ; the great mass of the 
people became the dupes of a it\s' factious leaders : and 
tlie deep dissimulation of the Protector rendered hypo- 
crisy fashionable, even among those who bad sense 
enough to laugh at the silly tricks which were played to 
gain popularity. 

But as far as related to foreign concerns, GromweH 
assumed an absolute tone, and spoke without disguise. 
He felt for his country's honour : lie inspired his com- 
manders with, a portion of his own resolution and deci- 
sive conduct, and sent them to conquer or to die* 
Awed by no rank, and proof against all intrigues, he 
dictated to other courts, ratlier than negotiated \ while 
the force of his genius, and the superiority of his arms^ 
were confessed by nations which durst not brave his 
power, nor insult his usurped authority. 

Among the heroes whom the enthusiasm of the times 
awakened into life and action, admiral Blake has made 
his name immortal. High as our naval reputation had 
-fitood at former periods, he exalted it still more by his 



ADMIRAL BLAKE. 203 

•act and intrepidity ; and the brilliancy of his 
<i ievements cannot be eclipsed even by the admirable 
c ;jlay3 of courage and prowess which our own times 
have witnessed. 

Robert Blake was a native of Bridgewater in Somer- 
setshire, and was initiated in classical learning at the 
grammar-school of that to^^m. His father was a mer- 
chant, but what was the original destination of the son 
cannot now be known. It is certain that he was sent 
to the university of Oxford; where he studied first at 
Alban-hall, and afterwards at Wadhafn-college. In 
1617 he was admitted to the degree of bachelor of arts; 
but there is no further account of his progress or his 
views till six years after that time, when he composed 
some verses on the death of Camden the antiquary, and 
soon after quitted the university. 

Being early tinctured with republican sentiments, 
and prejudiced against the church establishment by the 
severity of his diocesan Laud, who urged uniformity 
with impolitic zeal, Blake began to adopt puritanical 
principles ; and by the ingenuous bluntness of his man« 
ner soon recommended himself to that party, who pro- 
cured his election to parliament for his native borough 
in 1640. 

When elected under such auspices, the line of conduct 
which he had to pursue was obvious. On the com- 
mencement of the civil war, he declared for the parlia- 
nient ; but there exists no evidence of his distinction, 
either in the senate or the field, for some time. He 
seems at first to have been considered rather as an honest 
than a great man. The period had not yet arrived 
Vv^hich was to develop his natural energies ; and he 
might be said to resemble the useless gold in the mine, 
which requires a proper stamp to give it currency. 

He did not long, hoWever, remain under the cloud 
of obscurity ; but the first display of his talents was^ in 
the military, not the naval line. Having the command 



204 ADMIRAL BLAKE. 

of a small fort at Bristol in 1643, under colonel 
Fiennes, who occupied the city after prince Rupert had 
Carried the place by capitulation, Blake continued to 
defend his own particular post, and killed some of the 
royalists. This exasperated the prince to such a degree, 
that he threatened to hang him ; and was only diverted 
from his intention by perceiving the palpable ignorance 
of Blake in the laws of war. 

He afterwards served in Somersetshire ; and, being 
generally beloved, was very instrumental in supporting 
die cause of parliament. By means of the good intel- 
ligence which he was able to procure, he surprised 
Taunton in conjunction w^ith sir Robert Pye ; and was 
soon after appointed governor of that place, which was 
then one of the most important garrisons in the west. 

In this situation his talents and resolution soon became 
eminently conspicuous. The strictness of his discipline, 
and the endearing manner in which he conducted him- 
self tDVv^ards the townsmen, enabled him to hold out a 
long time against the royal forces ; and when a breach 
was at last effected, and his adversaries got possession 
of a part of the town, Blake held out the castle and its 
environs, with unshaken bravery and perseverance, till 
relief arrived. For this important service he was hand- 
somely rewarded by parliam.ent ; and was now consi- 
dered ^s a man qualified for hazardous enterprises, and 
trusts of still greater responsibility. 

His attachment to the popular side, however, had not 
injured his sense of right and wrong. He declared 
against tlie legality of Charles's trial ; and frequently 
professed that he would as freely venture his life to save 
the king's, as ever he had done to serve the parliament. 
Whether this arose from the natural humanity of his dis- 
position, or a reverence for royalty, Is doubtful. His 
subsequent conduct, however, makes it probable that 
the former was the case : for, after the king's deatli, he 
wholly agreed with the republican party; and^ next to 
1 



ADMIRAL BLAKE. ^06 

CTom\vell, was justly considered as the ablest ofEcer in 
the service. 

Blake had hitherto signalised himself only by land ; 
but his destiny led him to triumph on a new element. 
In 1649 he was appointed to command the fleet, in con- 
junction with Deane and Popham ; and sailing for Ire- 
land, blocked up prince Rupert in Kinsale harbour. 
That gallant officer despairing of relief by sea, and find- 
ing Cromwell ready to possess the town by land, took 
the desperate resolution of forcing his way through 
Blake's squadron, which he effected with the loss of 
three ships. 

The royal fleet steered for Lisbon, where it was pro- 
tected by the king of Portugal ; but Blake soon after 
coming up, on attempting to enter the port, was fired 
upon from the castle. Immediately dropping anchor, 
he sent to inquire the cause of this hostility ; but not 
receiving a satisfactory answer, he boldly sailed up the 
river within two miles of prince Rupert's fleet, and soli- 
cited permission from on shore to attack it. This 
being refused, Blake took five richly-laden Brazil ships ; 
and informed his Portuguese majesty, that unless he 
ordered prince Rupert to depart, he would himself 
seize the remainder of the fleet from America. 

Some tirne after, the prince, endeavouring to escape, 
was driven back by Blake ; who now took the Portu- 
guese ships without reserve, and dispatched several of 
them to England. In October 1 650 he fell in with a 
fleet of twenty-three sail from Brazil ; of which he sunk 
the admiral's ship, and took the vice-admiral, with 
eleven vessels richly laden. 

Resolving now^ to return home with his booty, or 
perliaps withdrawing from Lisbon that prince Rupert 
might be drawn from his retreat, he met two French 
men-of-war which were in search of the English royal 
fleet ; and captured one of them, reported to be worth 
a million sterling. 



!206 ADMIRAL BLA^KE. 

, By this time prince Rupert had got into Carthagena, 
Blake, being apprised of this, hastened thither, and 
requested the governor to permit him to attack his ene- 
my. The governor hesitated till he could obtain in» 
structions from his court, and in the mean time prince 
Rupert escaped to Malaga. The vigilant Blake im- 
mediately came up with him : when, disdaining to he- 
sitate^ he attacked him in tlie port ; and burnt or de- 
stroyed his w^hole fleec, with the exception of only two 
ships. 

Having achieved this service, he returned to Ply- 
mouth, received the thanks of the parliament, and was 
appointed warden of the Cinque-ports. 

In tlie following summer he reduced theScilly islands, 
which had held out for the king ; and then, sailing for 
Guernsey, with some difficulty added that island to 
the power of die parliament. 

-On the breaking out of a Dutch war, he was consti- 
tuted sole admiral. In this contest the greatest com- 
manders and best equipped sliips that any age had 
produced, were engaged on each side ; and the doml-_ 
nion of the sea was the splendid object for which both 
fought. Blake engaged the celebrated Van Tromp 
wnth such bravery, though far inferior in force, that he 
compelled him to retreat. This action, which was 
commenced by the Dutch, and In which Blake singly 
bore the greatest weight of the battle for four hours, 
was one of the most severe and desperate in the annals 
of naval history, though indecisive in its consequences. 

The advantage how^ever rested with the English, and 
the states of Holland seemed inclined fo;- peace ; but 
the terms on which it was otfered were so exorbitant, 
that hostilities were renewed with fresh vigour. In se- 
veral partial conflicts Blake obtained fresh laurels, and 
diminished the strength of the enemy : but the Dutch, 
under their illustrious commander, still brought for- 
ward fresh armaments ; and the Enghsh fleet, l)ein^ 



ADMIRAL BLAKE. 20*7 

ill want of provisions, were at length compelled to re- 
turn to the Dovv^ns. 

Van Tromp» with e!ght7 men-of-war, resolved to 
attack Blake in this situation. The English had not 
above half that number of ships ; yet they maintained 
the ^action with undiminished resolution, from two 
in the morning till six in the evening. At last Blake, 
for the first and only time, was obliged to retire from 
the enemy with some loss, and to take shelter in the 
Thames. 

The Dutch had also suiFered very considerably ; but 
so elated was Van Tromp with his success, that he sail- 
ed through the Channel with a broom at the mast- 
head, to signify that he meant to sweep the sea from 
the English. This boast was of no long duration. 
The English admiral, being reinforced, attacked him 
with far inferior numbers ; and, though severely wound- 
ed, continued the engagement till night, and compelled 
the Dutch to retire with the loss of six ships. Next day 
the engagement was renewed, to the fresh disadvantage 
of Tromp, who continued retreating towards the 
French coast. Night once more suspended the fuiy 
of Blake ; but on the third morning the contest recom- 
menced, and the Dutch were obliged to secure them- 
selves from final ruin by running close into Dunkirk 
and Calais. In this hard-fought battle, which lasted 
for three successive days, the Dutch lost eleven ships 
of war, thirty merchantmen, and fifteen hundred 
sailors. On the part of the English, only one ship was 
lost, but the loss of men was nearly equal. 

Such a series of victories obtained by a man not ori- 
ginally bred to the sea, is almost unparalleled; and 
must convey a very high idea of Blake's superior 
bravery and judgment. Not long after, Cromwell as- 
sumed the supreme power ; and the Dutch flattered 
themselves that such an usurpation would alienate the 
affections of the English officers, and leave the nation 



208 ADMIRAL BLAKE. 

an easy prey to attack. The sentiments of Blake on 
this occasion, shew the sense he entertained of his duty: 
** It is not for us/' said he, " to mind state affairs, but 
to keep foreigners from fooling us." This patriotic 
maxim is applicable at all times ; and will generally 
be found to actuate the brave, whatever changes a go- 
vernment may undergo. 

Towards the end of tlie month of April 1653, Blake, 
having collected a hundred ships of war, stood over to 
the coast of Holland, and forced the Dutch to take 
shelter in the Texel. Here they were blocked up for 
some time : but on the 3d of June an engagement took 
place, which was continued the succeeding day, when 
the English obtained a complete victory; and the 
whole Dutch fleet must either have been taken or sunk, 
had they not sought shelter on the sands of Calais. 

In the succeeding autumn Blake took his seat in par- 
liament, and received the solemn thanks of the house ; 
and not long after was appointed one of the lords of 
the admiralty. In November of the following year, 
Cromwell dispatched him with a strong fleet into the 
Mediterranean, with the ample commission to protect 
the English flag from every insult. The Algerines, in- 
timidated by his name, sought his friendship by every 
conciliatory measure ; but the dey of Tunis sent him a 
haughty answer, and defied his power. Blake, as was 
rustomary with him when in a passion, began to curl 
hU whiskers; and after a short consultation with his 
officers, sailed into the bay of Pert Ferino, silenced the 
guns of the castle, and then manning his boats, burnt 
all the shipping, with a very trivial loss on his own part. 
His name had long been formidable in Europe, but 
now it spread terror over Africa: the piratical states 
courted his forbearance with marks of servility ; while 
the Italian princes sent magnificent embassies to con- 
gratulate Or cm well on the seiVices thus rendered by 
Blake to Christendom In general- 
8 



ADKlIRAL BLAKE. 209 

Tile war with Spain by this time growing violent, 
0tir illustrious commander exer^ied his utmost efforts to 
ruin the maritime force of that nation in Europe, as 
Penn had done in the West Indies. But his health 
was no longer equal to the energy of his mind, and he 
requested an associate in the command; which was 
granted him, in the appointment cf general Montague 
t^be joint^admiral of the fleet. To Blake alone, how. 
ever, did the nation and the navy look up for protec- 
tion and glory : he was one of those highly favoured^ 
men whom Fortune, in her capricious freaks, never 
forsook ; his most daring attempts were sanctioned by 
her smiles, and his fame continually increased to the 
last. 

Being stationed near the Straits of Gibraltar, he al« 
ternately annoyed tlie shipping and the ports of Spain« 
His activity was displayed every where, and his intelli- 
gence enabled him to seize all probable opportunities 
of glory or of gain. While employed in blocking up 
the harbour of Cadiz, he learnt that the Spanish plate* 
iieet had put into the bay of Santa Cmz, in the island 
of TenerifFe. Determined to attack it, he sailed thither 
with twenty.fi ve men of war ; and on the 20th of April 
1657 arrived off the bay, where he saw nineteen stout 
ships disposed in the form of a crescent. Near the 
mouth of the harbour stood a castle, furnished with 
very heavy ordnance ; besides which, the bay was lined 
by strong forts, and a chain of communication was 
preserved between each by files of musketeers. Every 
other precaution was taken by the Spanish admiral, 
don Diego Diagues, that military experien<:e could 
suggest; though rather to prevent a surprise, than iu 
expectation of an open attack-. 

The captain of a Dutch ship, however, which then 

lay m the bay, entertained different sentiments in this 

last respect, and rightly understood the character of 

Blake. He requested leave to depart j and observed 

k2 



210 ADMIRAL BLAKE. 

to the admiral, " I am very sure Blake will soon be 
among you.'^ " Get you gone, if you wish it ; and 
let Blake come if he dares,' ' was the reply of the 
haughty Spaniard. 

The English admiral did iK)t want a challenge to 
fight. Having instantly made preparations for the 
engagement, a squadron of shi}>s was selected from the 
whole fleet to make the first onset, headed by captain 
Stayner in the Speaker frigate ; who no sooner received 
his orders than he flew with his canvass wings into the 
bay, and fell upon the Spanish ships, without appearing 
to regard the heavy fire from the forts. Blake followed 
him with rabidity ; and stationing some of his largest 
ships to pour broadsides into the castle and forts, these 
played their part so well, that in a short time the Spa- 
niards found tbeir situation untenable. 

Meanwhile the admiral, in conjunction with Stayner, 
attacked the ships with such impetuosity, that after a 
contest of a few hours the Spaniards were fairly beaten 
from them, and they were left to the mercy of the cap- 
tors. But^ with all his exertions, Blake found it im- 
possible to carry them off, and therefore ordered his 
men to bum them ; which was so effectually executed, 
that they were all reduced to ashes except two, which 
sunk. 

Blake now began to reflect on his own situation. 
The wind blew so strong into the bay, that many of 
the best officers despaired of getting out ; and as they 
tay under the fire of the castle and forts, in a few 
hours more they must have been battered to pieces, 
^nd the fortune of the day reversed. 

What all the skill and bravery of Blake could not 
effect, Providence did for him. The wind suddenly 
shifted to another quarter, and carried them to the open 
sea, before the Spaniards could recover from their con- 
sternation at this daring and decisive action, which is 
oxiQ of the most remarkable ever performed.- " It 



i 



ADMIRAL BLAKE.. 211 

was so miraGulous,'' says lord Clarendon, ^* that all 
men who knew the place, wondered how any sober man^ 
with what courage soever endowed, would ever have 
undertaken it,, and they could hardly persuade them- 
selves to believe what they had done ;. whilst^tlie Spa- 
nia^rds comforted themselves with the reflection, that 
they were devils, and not men, who had accomplished 
such things." 

No sooner was the news of this signal \netory spread 
abroad, than a public thanksgiving was ordered on the 
occasion ; and a diamond ring was voted to Blake by 
Cromwell's parliament, with demonstrations of grati- 
tude and respect to the wiiole fleet.. 

The admiral resumed his former station on the coa?t 
of Spain : but his ships becoming foul from long use ; 
ajid he himself falling into a dmgerous disorder, which- 
was aggravated by a sea life, and the want of those re- 
freshments which are only to be found on shore ; he 
resolved to return home. Finding hfs constitution ra- 
pidly giving way to a complication of dropsy and 
scurvy, the love of his native soil seems to have been 
uppermost in his mind. He hastened his voyage, that 
he. mJght at least resign his breath in a country which 
was dear to him by every tie that can bind a good 
man, and. which he had aggrandized by his valour, lit 
this wish ak^ne was fortune unpropitious to him. He 
frequently inquired for land, but he lived to see it 
only ; for he expired as the fleet was entering Ply- 
mouth, on the 17th of August 1657, in the fifty-eighth 
year of his age. 

Cromwell ordered him a pompous funeral at the / 
public expence ; but the tears and regret of his coun^. 
trymen were the most honourable eulogy on his me- 
mory. Never was any man who had devoted himself 
to an usurper, so much respected by those of opposite 
principles. Disinterested, generous, and liberal ; am- 
bitious only of true glory, and terrible only to the ene- 



212 EDWARD HYDE, 

mies of his country ; he forms one of the most perfect 
characters of that age, and the least stained with any 
vice or meanness. Clarendon observes, that he was 
the first man who brought ships to despise castles on 
shore ; which had hitherto been thought very formi- 
dable, but were proved by him to be more alarming 
than really dangerous. He was also the first who in- 
fused such resolution into seamen, as to make ther^i at- 
tempt whatever was possible ; and the first who taught 
them to fight either in fire or water. In short, he 
%vas the Ndson and the Sidney Smith of his day ; 
and proved that to dare is generally to command suc- 
cess. Few things indeed are impracticable to him who 
has a well-grounded confidence in his own powers ; and 
who is not diverted from his object by any seeming 
difficulties, nor lured from perseverance by the blan- 
dishments of ease. 

After the Restoration, the remains of Blake were, by 
the express command of Charles the Second, removed 
from the vault wherein they had been deposited in 
Westminster-abbey, and ignobly thrown with others 
into a pit in St. Margaret's church-yard ; •* in which 
place," says one of his biographers, " they now re- 
main; without any other monument than that reared 
by his valour, which time itself can hardly efface.'' 



EDWARD HYDE; 

EARL OF CLARENDON, AND l6rD HIGH CHANCELLOR 
OF ENGLAND, 

Born 1608— Died 1674, 

From Sth James /., to 25th Charles IT. 

TO preserve integrity of conduct, and consistency 
of principle, amidst public convulsions, when force ge- 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 2IS 

nerally sets equity at defiance ; to adhere to what is 
just and honourable, regardless of what is expedient or 
profitable ; is the character of a great and a good man. 
How far and in what respects lord chancellor Claren- 
don deserves this praise, will be seen from a brief sur- 
vey of his life. 

This celebrated statesman, lawyer, and historiogra* 
pher, was descended from an ancient family in Cheshire; 
and was the third son of a gentleman possessed of a: 
small fortune, who resided at Denton, near Hindon in 
Wilts, where the future chancellor was bom. With na 
prospects of a patrimony, nor protected by great alli- 
ances, he had his fortune to make by his own merit f 
and in the history of men it may be remarked, that for 
one who has increased the original honours of his fa- 
mily, and enlarged his hereditary possessions, thousands 
have pursued a retrograde course, and diminished what 
they felt no necessity to advance. Hence the aspiring 
and virtuous mind, ungifted by fortune, m.ay draw the 
most favourable arguments for hope and perseverance ; 
and, when ir views the elevation which others have 
reached, may learn to acquiesce in the toil which is re- 
quisite to gain tlie ascent. Edward Hyde received a 
private education, suitable to the circumstances of his 
family, under the vicar of the parish in which he was 
born 5 but it may be readily concluded that he must 
have been an apt scholai; and displayed early talents/ 
as he was entered of Magdalen-hall Oxford when just 
turned of thirteen. Here he took the degree of bachelor 
of arts : and saving improved his natural endowments 
by classical learning, it seems that the height of his 
ambition at that time was to obtain a fellowship in 
Exeter college ; but being disappointed in his views, 
he removed to the Middle Temple. How often is 
Providence as kind in what it denies as in what it 
grants! Had Hyde become the fellow of . a college, 
it is; probable, that he might have passed his days in in-- 



214? liDWARD HYDE, 

glorious ease, and left no tmces of hh name; but 
having once entered on the profession of the law, he 
found an opportunity for the exercise of his talents, 
and the display of his loyalty and patriotism. 

He pursued his studies in the Temple for several 
years v/ith increasing reputation ; and when his society 
determined to give a public testimony of their hatred 
to the indecent principles advanced by Prynne in his 
work entitled Histriomastix, he was appointed one 
among the managers of a masque presented on that 
occasion before king Charles and his queen at White- 
hall, in 1634. But though Hyde was a friend to con- 
stitutional royalty, he strenuously opposed every illegal 
stretch of prerogative ; and reprobated the subser- 
viency of the judges to advance the kingly power at 
the expence of national liberty. A remarkable incident 
13 .said to have contributed to fix the steadiness of his 
principles, W'hen he first began to acquire some emi- 
nence in his profession : — As he w^as walking one day 
with his father in the fields round his native place, the 
old gentleman in the course of conversation happened 
to remark, that lawyers were apt to stretch the prero- 
gative too far, and injure liberty ; and concluded with 
earnestly requesting him, if it should be his fortune 
to rise in his profession, never to sacrifice the laws or 
liberties of his country to private views or political in- 
trigues. Having repeated this advice in the most im- 
pressive manner, he immediately fell into a fit of apo- 
plexy, which carried him oiF in a few hours after- 
wards. The filial duty of Hyde conspired with his 
own judgment to make this expostulation the rule of 
his future life, and he died in observing it. 

For some years he appeared to have^onfined himself 
wholly to the duties of his profession, without any am- 
bition of being distinguished as a politician : but having 
been elected to parliament in IS^O for Wootton Basset, 
be soon attracted notice by his eloquence, and the resc- 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 213 

lution and zeal with which he defended his country's 
rights. 

This parliament was of short duration ; but another 
having been called, Mr. Hyde was elected for Saltash 
in Cornwall, and the promises which he had already 
given of a patriotic character were fully confirmed* 
He was frequently appointed chairman of several im* 
portant committees ^ and with all the warmth of ora- 
tory declaimed against the usurpations of the crown 
and the violation of the constitution, particularly in 
the article of ship-money. 

But Hyde was not one of those factious statesmen 
who, having detected errors in the exercise of govern* 
ment, overlook all its beauties. He was as vigilant to 
prevent innovations in the constitution, as encroach- 
ments on the liberty of the subject. When it was 
moved to deprive the bishops of their vote, he repre- 
sented that from the earliest institution of parliaments 
they had been a part of it ; and that they were the 
legitimate representation of the whole body of the 
clergy, whose rights could not be wrested from them 
without the grossest injustice. On this great point he 
differed from his friend lord' Falkland, w^ith whom he 
kept up the closest intimacy; and their enemies hoped 
tliat their separation would ensue ; byt in this they 
were deceived.. Each only claimed the privilege of 
speaking his own sentiments on partkulaft. occasions ; 
in essential articles they were united. 

When the earl of Strafford was impeached of high 
treason, Mr; Hyde was appointed one of the committee 
to draw up the charges against him ; but divesting 
himself of passion and prejudice, and foreseeing conse- 
quences which escaped the eye- of more intemperate 
men, he considered him as guilty only of misde- 
meanours, and disclaimed any concern in the proceed- 
ings by attainder. In short, he was one of those glo- 
rious patriots who act on independent principles ; v/ho 
k5 



216 EDWARD HYDfij 

scorn to oppose government from resentment, or to sanc- 
tion its measures from venal motives. As soon, there- 
fore, as he perceived that the commons were actuated 
by a spirit of hostility to the constitution, and began 
to assume the executive power which had been legiti- 
mately vested in other hands, he abandoned them to 
ll;eir follies and their crimes^ and repaired to the king 
at York, who conferred upon him the honour of knight- 
hood, and made him chancellor of the exchequer. 

From this time he was a firm adherent to his royal 
master, through all the vicissitudes of his fortune* 
Wisely confining liis talents, however, to their proper 
sphere, he counselled rather than acted : and is little 
noticed during the intestine commotions, till the treaty 
of Uxbridge was set on foot; when he proved him- 
self, in the character of commissioner, a warm and 
judicious advocate for the king's unalienable rights. 

All hi^ exertions proving abortive, and the civil war 
being renewed, sir Edward Hyde v^ras appointed to at- 
tend the prince of Wales in the West, whxre he strove 
to maintain his. master's interest and to retrieve his^ 
affairs ; but matters becoming worse and worse, he em> 
barked from Pendennis castle for Jersey, in expectatioiv 
of finding prince Charles at that place. His royal high- 
ness, however, having been removed to Paris, sir Ed- 
ward was so provoked at this impolitic and precipitate- 
step, that he refused to attend him thither ;. and spent^ 
tv/o years and upv/ards in Jersey, employedin the com^ 
position of his immortal work the History of the Re- 
bellion, which he imdertopk with the king's particular; 
approbation. and encouragement. 

In May 1648 he received a letter from queen Hen>. 
rietta; requesting him, in his majesty's name, ta give- 
his personal attendance on the prince of Wales, by a, 
certain day, at Paris. Some circumstances -occurred, 
to render this impossible } but he joined him soon after 
at the Hague, in company with lord Cottington* , 



i 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 217 

His various services to the young prince (afterwards 
Charles the Second) during his exile, it is unnecessary 
to mention ; they afc sufficiently conspicuoas in the 
history of our country. His activity in promoting the 
Restoration; the pure and disinterested attachment 
which he shewed to him under the most forlorn cir- 
cumstances, and sometimes amidst obloquy and ingra- 
titude ; must rank, him very high in our esteem. At 
the urgent solicitation of Charles, he accepted the great 
seal ; and in the character of lord-chancellor transacted 
almost the v/hole business of that prince's little court,, 
carried on negotiations, and paved the way for his re- 
turn to the throne of his ancestors.- 

No sooner was Charles happily restored, than he 
confirmed sir. Edward" Hyde in his office of lord-high- 
chancellor, and placed the most unlimited confidence 
in his wisdom and integrity. Soon afterwards he was 
elected chancellor of the university of Oxford, and 
created a peer by the title of baron Hyde ; and next 
year w^as- raised to the dignity of viscount Cornbury,. 
and earl^of ClarendoUi- 

Great as^ the honours and' distinctions' w^re with 
which he was invested, his merit adorned them all. His 
prudence^ his justice, and his moderation, had been- 
eminently conspicuous on the Restoration, in adjusting 
the boundaries between royal prerogative and national 
liberty. He reconciled- many clashing interests, and 
from confusion had reduced much to order. He pro-- 
moted an act of indemnity to calm the fears of the re-- 
publicans, and an act of uniformity to satisfy the- 
royalists.. 

But stUl his situation was far from being enviable.- 
The gay apd dissolute Charles was liberal in professions, 
but generally referred to his chancellor for their ful- 
filment. Clarendon had it - not in - hii- ppwer to satis- 
fy every just claim on royal munificence, much less to-' 
ratify heedless promises. Every person however who-> 



218 EDWARD HYDE, 

met with a gracious smile from the king, and a reluc- 
tant compliance from the chancellor, considered him 
as an enemy ; and .when it was discovered that his 
daughter had been clandestinely married to the duke 
of York, though he was himself perfectly innocent in 
this respect, the popular odium against him was danger- 
ously inflamed, and his best actions were misconstrued 
as the means of aggrandizing his own family. The 
king assured him, however, of his continued favour 
and esteem ; but the friendship of Charles was as fleet- 
ing- as his enmity : with strong sense, and a cultivated 
understanding, he gave himself up to pleasure and 
mirth ; and was seldom roused to reflection, except 
when his money ran short, or the associates of his in- 
discretions were clamcfous for his bounty. 

The murmurs which had been long repressed, or 
vented in private, at length found a proclaimer in the 
earl of Bristol, who in 1663 exhibited articles of im- 
peachment against lord Clarendon in the house of peers. 
Between these two noblemen there had subsisted a close 
and intimate friendship both in prosperous and adverse 
fortune, and it was vainly thought to have been indis- 
soluble ; but the chancellor, from motives of duty, 
having refused a favour to a court lady whom Bristol 
patronized, he henceforward thought of nothing but 
malice and revenge. 

It is humiliating to reflect how frail are the ties that 
'bind men, how fleeting are our dearest delights ! 

Friends now fast-sworn, 
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart ; 
Who twine, as *twere, in love 
Inseparable ; shall within this hour,. 
On a dissension of a doit^ break out 
To bitterest enmity. Shakspeare. 

To refuse the last favour in the chain of obligations, 
h frequently to cancel all the preceding. The earl of 
Bristol was more inveterate against Clarendon for a 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 219 

trifling refusal in regard to a worthless woman, than if 
they had never been friends ; but his resentment over- 
shot its mark, and die charges which he alleged evident- 
ly partook more of private revenge than a love of pub- 
lic justice. 

Clarendon was honourably acquitted, but his enemies 
did not wholly lose their aim. The purest human vir-- 
tue, when assayed to the last, will discover some dross; 
and some declarations which he had made paved the. 
way to his future disgrace. To the king, whose disso- 
lute and licentious course of life he freely censured, he 
daily became less acceptable ; and by the nation he was 
deemed blamable for faults which he had not the power 
to correct. Intrigues were formed against him by the 
duke of Buckingham and others ; and Charles, wearied 
with the importunity of flatterers and the bold remon- 
strances of Clarendon, demanded die seals from him in 
August 1667 ; which were no sooner delivered up than, 
the commons renewed the impeachment against him, 
and at the bar of the house of lords accused him of 
treason and other high crimes and misdemeanours. 

A variety of circumstances had conspired to render 
Clarendon unpopular. His pacific disposition amidst 
the insults of the Dutch ; his advising the sale of Dun- 
kirk, which perhaps was the truest policy ; his opposi- 
tion to the bill for liberty of conscience ; and his vanity 
in building a splendid palace, during times of public 
distress from the plague and the fire of London ; were 
all turned to his disadvantage. Yet the odium excited 
'against him was in general very unjust. He had ever 
steered^, a middle course between prerogative and na- 
tional liberty ; and the people were highly indebted to 
hmi for imposing a check on the crown, by granting 
only such a revenue as obliged the king to have some 
dependance on parliament. Had the advice of others 
been followed, Charles might have reigned without con- 



220 EDWARD HYDEy 

trol, 1)7 the profusion of that establishment which had' 
been proposed for his use. 

The people seldom think for themselves, a^ii are 
more frequently guided by the counsels of the intriguing 
than of the wise. Clarendon saw that his credit was 
lost, and hi? doom fixed'. He drew up, however, a 
masterly apology ; in which he vindicated his own hoi- 
nour and conduct, and- threw the whole blame that had 
been imputed to him on those who better deserved it : 
but not trusting to tlie effect of this among judges al- 
ready prejudiced against him^ he went into voluntary 
exile, from which he never returned* 

He chose France for the place of liis retirement r but 
his enemies had already been tampering with that court ; 
and no sooner had he reached Calais, than he received 
orders tO' quit the kingdom. Being seized' with a 
violent fit of the gout, he petitioned for tihie; and du* 
ring the interval of his recov-ery, the sentiments of the 
French suddenly changing, he was indulged with per-i 
inission to take up his residence there. At last he set- 
tled at Rouen in Normandy, v/here he died^ in 1674. f. 
when his body was brought to England,, and buried in < 
Henry the Seventli's chapel, in Westminster-abbey. 

For political sagacity, and genuine patriotism, lord 
Clarendon will bear a. comparison with the most cele-j 
brated statesmen. He brought the .vessel of state inta 
port, after it had been tossed by one of the longest and 
most violent storms that this country had ever expe- 
rienced : and'on his fidelity the sovereign might repose. 
unlimited confidence ;: while the people, under all the: 
circumstances of his situation, could .have little ground 
for accusation; Had he been more inclined to sacrifice' 
their interests, he would have been more acceptable to 
the king ; and on the other haiid^ had .he been less at- 
tached to his majesty, his popularity would have re- 
mained to the.lastc But by pursuing the. line, of duty^ 



EARL OF CLARENDON. 221 

and conscience, he was finally a favcuriie with neither; 
his temper was too gra.ve far the volatile Charles, and 
his integrity too inflexible for his debanched courtiers. 
It is said tliat the duke of Buckinghaip. in particular, 
who possessed tlie talent for ridicule in a high degree, 
used to entertain the king with mimicking the solemn 
pace and the sententious wisdom of the chancellor ; 
and to render him Ungracious^ it was not unusual for 
the courtiers who dare.d to take such liberties, to point 
out Clarendon to the king, saying at the same time 
*^ There goes your schoolmast^.'* Charles had not 
gratitude enough to appreciate his services as they de- 
served ; and he suffered himself to be prejudiced 
against a man who aidhered to him. in the worst times,^ 
by the silly tricks of worthless flatterers* Yet It must 
be allowed that Clarendon was little qualined to steer 
his way through, the obliquities of a_ depraved court y 
he could not disguise-his abhon-ence of vice^ nor flat- 
ter foibles which he thought might be dangerous. He- 
was religious from conviction, and his attachment to 
the church of England was manifested in his whole 
eonduct. When his daughter, v^fe of the duke, of 
York (afterwards James- the Second}, Vv^as- induced to 
embrace the religion of th^ Romish ehurch, he wrote 
in the most affectionate and earnest terms to dissuade 
her from thiS' resolution, and his argumeFits displayed 
considerable skill in polemical divinity. But she was 
biassed by her deluded husband and crafty priests ; and 
died in that farth, to^thesincere and deep sorrow of her 
unhappy father*. ^ 

As a writer, the fame of Clarendon is secure m the 
bands of the public^ which has-highly estimated his la- 
bours.. The History ofthe Rebellion will last as long as> 
English literature itself. Thoiigh.not exempt from pre* 
judice, and little graced by the ornaments of modem' 
siyle and composition,. it shews a depth of research a 
masterly, delmeation of character, and a deductioa op 



222 JFOHK MILTON. 

effects from their remotest causes, that must charm the 
sensible, and amuse the idle, to the latest periods of 
time. From his works the politician may glean know- 
ledge, and private men gather maxims for the regula- 
tion of their conduct, in almost every situation into^ 
which they can be thrown. 



JOHN MILT O N. 

Born 1608— Died IST^. 
From 5th James L^ to 25th Charles^ I L 

Three poets, in three distant ages bom,. 
€^reece, Italy, and England, did adorn: 
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed ; 
The next in majesty ; in both the last : 
The force of Nature could no further go ; 
To make a third, she join 'd the former two. 

IN these pointed and nervous lines of Dryden, the 
characters of the three great epic poets, Homer, Vir- 
gil, and Milton, are well discriminated. If the palm 
is given to the latter,, it is perhaps justly. The dignity 
and sublimity of the subject on which Milton wrote, 
raised him above all comparison ; and the vigour of his 
genius supported the wxight which he had assumed. 
Whoever can read Milton without admiration, must be; 
diestitute not.only of moral feeling, but of genuine taste ; 
his heart is not formed to relish intellectual pleasures,, 
his soul is not fitted for the perception of what is beau- 
tiful or sublime. 

This illustrious poet; was descended from an ancient 
family which: had been long seated at I^ilton, near 
Thame in Oxfordshire; but having engaged in the* 
unhappy quarrels between the houses of York andi 
Lancaster, which long deluged England in blood^- 
they had the misfortune to forfeit their principal estate. 



i 



JOHN MILTOfi. 223 

His grandfather, a zealous papist, enjoyed however 
an appointment in the forest of Shotover, in that neigh- 
bourhood : hut his father, being disinherited f@r em- 
bracing the protestant faith, settled in London, as a 
scrivener; and in Bread-street there John Mikon, his 
eldest son, was born in 1608. 

After receiving a domestic education for some time 
under a worthy clergyman, w^hose fame is perpetuated 
in his pupil's first essays, he was removed to St. Paul's 
school, where by indefatigable application he made an 
extraordinary progress in classical learning. From his 
twelfth year he devoted the greatest part of the night to 
study, and laid the foundation of a disorder which 
afterwards terminated in total blindness. 

It may be remarked, that few have made a distin- 
guished figure in the literary ' career, w^ho have not 
evinced an early predilection for books. The boy who 
performs the prescribed task, who attends to all the tni- 
nute parts of his duty, may escape censure, and may 
even gain applause ; but he will never reach the exalted 
heights of the voluntary student, who seeks for learn- 
ing from die innate love which he bears it. To obtain 
excellence in whatever w:e attempt, sacrifices must be 
made which cannot be directed ; and an enthusiasm 
must inspire us to surmount difficulties which the luke- 
warm and the indolent will fear to encounter.' Had the 
boyish Milton spent his leisure hours, as he might have 
done without blame, in the common amusements of his 
years, it is probable that we should never have heard 
of his Paradise Lost. Yet while it is commendable 
to incite to youthful application by the prospect of vir- 
tuous fame, it is no less necessary to caution against in*- 
juring die springs of life by too intense study. Occa- 
sional relaxation is of service both to the body and the 
mind ; the welfare of the latter depeiids much on that 
of the former, and all our comforts certainly flow from 
health. 



224 JOHN MILTON. 

In his sixteenth year young Milton was admitted of 
Christ's college, Cambridge. Being already a profi- 
cient in classical learning, his academic exercises must 
have appeared extremely light ; it is certain that he 
had composed some beautiful Latin poems before he 
removed to the university, and the greatest part of his 
compositions in that language were produced during 
the period which he continued there. He had formed 
his taste on the purest models of antiquity, and was 
considered as the first Englishman who wrote with clas- 
sical elegance. But he did not confine himself to Latin 
poetry only ; in the studious retirements of Cambridge, 
he conceived tlie first rude idea of the work Vv-hich will 
render his name immortal. 

After taking the degree of master of arts, he quitted 
the university ; and retired to Horton near Colnbrook;^ 
where his father then resided on a competent fortune 
gained in the successful practice of his vocation. It 
seems that the old gentleman had destined him for the 
church : but Milton had early imbibed notions unfa- 
vourable to the national establishment ; and his father, 
feeling for the conscientious scruples of the son, did not 
wish to press his compliance. The praise of consist- 
ency, those who are the most inimical to the political 
and religious principles of our poet cannot deny him ; 
and so far he is entitled to our esteem. 

In his retirement at Horton, he prosecuted his studies 
with unparalleled assiduity arid success. He read over 
all the Greek and Latin classical writers ; and miide 
them, in every instance, subservient to his love for 
poetry. During this period he produced his celebrated 
masque of Comus ; a work in which imagery, pathos, 
and a fervid but chaste language, decorate every page. 
Though less adapted for the stage, it Avill never cease, 
while genuine taste remains, to please in the closet. 

His next production was Lycidas ; a delightful mo- 
DLody, occasioned by the de^th of an amiable young 



JOHN MiLtON. 225 

gentleman, the son of sir John King secretary for Ire- 
land, who was lost in his passage to that country. Be- 
tween him and Milton an intimate friendship had been 
contracted at the university ; and he bewails the lace- 
rated ties of youthful affection, in terms as honourable 
to the man as to the poet. It is supposed that about 
this time too he composed those exquisite poems entitled 
L'Allegro, and II Penseroso ; which, had he left no- 
thing else, would have transmitted his name to immor^ 
tality. 

His reputation as a poet had now attracted the re- 
gard of the public, and procured him some valuable 
private friendships ; and after spending five years at 
Horton, witli occasional visits to the metropolis, on the 
death of his mother he obtained his father's permission 
to travel. 

Having procured proper recommendations and intro- 
ductions, he left England in 1638, and first visited Pa- 
ris, where he was introduced to the celebrated Grotius; 
then hastening into Italy, he applied himself to the study 
cf the language and literature of that country with the 
most brilliant success. The great and the learned 
treated him v/ith distinguished attention ; and notwith- 
standing his avowed principles, which he was too ho- 
nest to disguise, cardinal Barberini, afterwards pope Ur- 
ban the Eighth, shewed him some uncommon marks of 
personal respect. 

From Rome he proceeded to Naples ; where the mar- 
quis of Villa, who had been the patron of Tasso, paid 
him the homage due to his illustrious attainments, and 
in return was complimented with the most grateful 
effusions of his elegant pen. In other parts of Italy he 
was equally honoured and caressed, by every one distin- 
guished for rank, urbanity, or talents. The philosopher 
Galileo, who was then a prisoner in the Inquisition for 
daring to discover and publisli more of the celestial moy' 



226 JOHN MILTOISr. 

tions than his ignorant and bigoted judges could con- 
ceive, received a visit of respect from Milton, among 
other men of extraordinary acquirements in science and 
literature. 

After having spent two years in continental travels^ 
which he originally designed to extend to Sicily and 
Greece, news arrived of the commotions in his native 
country: and judging it criminal to remain a distant 
or an indiiFerent spectator of scenes which involved all 
that was dear to Englishmen, he hastened his return,, 
and took a house in Aldersgate-street London ; where 
he employed his time in superintending the education 
of a few young gentlemen, who lodged and boarded 
under his roof. How well he was qualified for this im- 
portant though often ill-rewarded office, must be evi- 
dent to every unprejudiced mind. His success indeed 
w^as answerable to his capacity, and his Treatise on 
Education shews the plan of scholastic institution 
which he pursued. His pen however wus occasionallj 
employed in attacking the very foundation of church 
government, and in exalting the puritanical party, to 
which he had devoted himself with unshaken ad- 
herence. 

• Having reached his thirty-fifth year, he married 
Mary, the daughter of Richard Powell, esq. ^ but his 
lady, on some disagreement, left him soon after. This 
so provoked Milton, that he paid his addresses to another^ 
and wrote with much acrimony against the existing- 1 
laws of marriage ; boldly maintaining that unfitness or 
contrariety of dispositions, or whatever was repugnant 
to the endearments of conjugal society, v/rts as solid a 
claim to a divorce as any other. His wife however 
saw her folly, and retrieved her error before it was 
too late. In an unexpected interview, contrived by 
some benevolent and judicious friends, she threw her* 
"self at his feet, and implored his forgiveness. Milton 



JOHN MILTON. 22? 

wiis not proof against a woman's tears, particularly 
those of one whom he so lately loved witli an ardent 
affection : 

Soon his heart relented 
Towards her, his life so late, and sole delight. 
Now at his feet, submissive in distress. 

Paradise Lost. 

The civil ^ war now raging with tlie greatest fury, 
Milton was induced, by party zeal, to suspend the pur- 
suits of elegant literature, and to enter into political 
discussion. But tliough his talents gave him a tem- 
porary reputation in this career, and indeed spread his 
fame over all Europe, his labours of this kind are now 
less celebrated ; while his celebrity as a poet has been 
continually increasing, and will increase till time shall 
be no more. The political work which gained him 
the most extensive reputation, was his Deftnslo pro Po' 
f>uh Anglican 0, or ** Defence of the People of England ;'* 
in . answer to Salmasius, who had composed a tract 
entitled Defenslo Regts^ or " Defence of the King." The 
asperity with which Milton wrote, is said to have broken 
the heart of his rival ; but though our poet was re- 
warded witli a thousand pounds for this piece of ser- 
vice, and made Latin secretary to Cromwell, he had 
little reason to triumpli in his success. By too intense 
application, a disorder which had long affected his 
sight now terminated in total blindness. About this 
period, too, he lost his wife, who left h:m three daugh- 
ters ; and soon marrying another, in little more than a 
year he became a second time a widov/er. 

After Cromwell had established his usurpation on 
the ruins of tlie monarchy, Milton, who seems to have 
been as much inimical to ancient institutions of every 
sort as averse to arbitrary power, awed perhaps into 
silence by fear, or biassed by gratitude, acquiesced in 
the change that took place, and resumed his studies ; 



228 JOHN MILTOI^. 

but produced nothing more that deserves to be remem- 
bered, till after the Restoration. 

At that era, he kliew that the active part which he 
had taken would expose him to the most imminent 
danger; and prudently absconded till matters took 
another turn, and the fate of the most violent partisans 
of rebellion and usurpation had been decided. The 
abilities and the virtues of Milton, raised him friends 
on this emergency. By the interest of sir William 
Davenant, whose life he had formerly saved, he re- 
ceived tl^ benefit of the act of amnesty ; only his 
political writings were ordered to be burnt by the 
hands of the common hangman. It is gratifying to 
such as venerate the name of Milton to reflect, that 
in his highest exaltation he was moderate in his actions 
towards those who differed from him in politics, and 
that his memory is stained by nothing cruel or arbi- 
trary. In him it was exemplified, 

— ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes 
EmoUIt mores, nee sinit esse feros. 

" that an .intimate acquaintance with the liberal arts, 
softens the manners, nor suffers ihem to be ferocious.'* 
He met with a recom.pense in the attachment of friends 
at a crisis of peculiar danger, and his example proves 
the wisdom of lenity and forbearance amidst the dis- 
tractions of political fury. 

Milton was new, in^the fifty-second year of his age, 
deprived of sight, borne down by infirmities, and de- 
pressed by the vicissitudes of his fortune ; yet the 
vigour of his mind enabled him to rise, with elastic 
force, over this accumulation of ills. He appeared 
ao-ain in public ; entered the third time into the mar- 
riage-state, with a miss Minshul, a native of Cheshire ; 
and, it is said, refused the place of Latin secretary to 
the king, notwithstanding the most pressing importu- 
nities of his new wife. When she urged him to comply 



JOHN MILTON. 129 

with the times, and accept the royal offer, his answer 
is said to have been as follows : " You are In the right, 
my dear ; like other women, you are ambitious to ride 
in your coach ; while my whole aim is to live and die 
an honest man.'* 

Soon after his third marriage, Milton removed to a 
house in Artillery- walk, leading to Bunhill-fields, where 
he resided till his death, except during the plague ia 
1665. On that awful calamity, he retired with his fa- 
mily to Chalfont St. Giles, in Buckinghamshire; where 
he put the last hand to his Paradise Lost, a work that 
had occupied his thoughts for a long series of years. 
It is said that Milton sometimes was incapable of pro- 
ducing a suigle line, and at other seasons his " unpre- 
meditated verse" flowed with a felicity resembling inspi- 
ration. On those occasions, he immediately called his 
daughter, who acted as his amanuensis; and would 
dictate a considerable number of lines in a breath, which 
he afterwards polished and reduced. About the venial 
and autumnal equinox, his poetical talent was said to 
be the most happy. Indeed few literary persons are 
insensible, that extremes of heat or cold are equally 
unfavourable to the exertions of the mind ; fev/ are un- 
acquainted with periodical obscurations and brilliancies 
of genius. 

After this Immottal poem was ready for the press, It 
was nearly suppressed by the ignorance or malice of the 
licenser, who found or fancied treason in the following 
noble simile: 

As when the sun new-risen 

Looks through the horizontal misty air. 

Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon, 

In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 

On half the nations, and with fear of change 

Perplexes monarchs. 

Having overcome this obstacle, Milton sold the copy- 
right for five pounds ready money, five pounds more 



230 JOHN MILTOX. 

when one thousand three hundred of the books should 
be disposed of, and the same sum on the pubHcatlon of 
a second and a third edition. From this agreement 
Milton received no more than fifteen pounds ; and his 
widow afterwards transferred every claim, for the poor 
additional sum of eight pounds. 

Such was the first destiny of a v/ork that constitutes 
the glory and the boast of English poetry, and may be 
reckoned among the noblest efforts of human genius in 
any age or country. But Milton wrote for immortality, 
and he has not lost his reward,. Like the sun bursting 
from the horizon of vapours, his Paradise Lost gra- 
dually rose to the zenith ; and having long become sta- 
tionary, has no decline to dread, unless worse than 
Gothic darkness should overspread the regions of taste. 
About three years after the appearance of Paradise 
Lost, Milton produced his Samson Agonistes, a tra- 
gedy written on tlie purest Greek model : and Para- 
dise Regained, which he is said to have preferred be- 
fore his great work of Paradise Lost ; but if this was 
his real opinion, it only shews how incompetent an au- 
thor is to decide on the merits of his own productions. 
The Paradise Regained is said to have originated from 
a hint suggested by one Elwood, a quaker ; who, on 
Milton's reading to him in manuscript his Paradise 
Lost, exclaimed : " You have now only to write Para- 
dise Found :" but though it is a poem of considerable 
merit, and would have raised the reputation of any 
other man to an exalted degree, it was so wholly 
eclipsed by its sublime predecessor, that its merits are 
in a great measure obscured by the comparison. In 
fact, it resembles the lustre of the morning-star absorb- 
ed in the meridian blaz€ ; it is the Odyssey of Milton^i 
and falls far short of what may be called his Iliad. 

A life of indefatigable study, and which had been 
exposed to various vicissitudes, hastened that hour 
%vhich neither the great nor the learned can escape, 
1 



JOHN MILTOI^rrc 231 

Milton had also been long afflicted with the gout ai! J 
other Infirmities, and was completely worn out. He 
died without a struggle, on the 10th of November 1674', 
in the sixtv-slxth year of his age. His remains were 
interred In the church of St. Giles, Cripplegate ; and 
his funeral was numerously and splendidly attended. 
A monument was, many years afterwards, erected to 
his memory in Westminster-abbey ; but a monument 
was needless to him whose fame fills the whole en- 
lightened world. 

Though imprudence is the general vice of poets, at 
least of those who vainly fancy that it is a proof of su- 
perior genius to spurn at little things, Milton through 
his prudent economy left behind him fifteen hundred 
pounds. We have therefore the consolation to reflect, 
that tills illustrious bard was never in indigence, though 
he might be remote from affluence. His family, how- 
ever, gradually sunk into the humbler spheres of life ; 
and his line is generally supposed to be now extinct. 

Milton was of the middling stature, formed with the 
most perfect symmetry ; of a ruddy complexion, and 
light brown hair. In his youth he was eminently beau • 
tiful ; and so delicate, that at Cambridge he went by 
the appellation of *' the lady of Christ's college." The 
marquis of Villa gives a high idea of Milton's beauty 
of person, in a neat Latin epigram ; which has been 
thus translated : 

So perfect thou in mind, in form, and face, 
ThouVt not of English, but angelic race. 

Both his constitution and his taste led him to abste- 
miousness : the one was too weak to bear excesses, and 
the other too refined to indulge in them. In early 
youth he studied late at night, but afterwards com- 
pletely altered his plan in tliis respect. In his occa- 
sional relaxations from literary pursuits, he amused 
himself with conversation and music, in which latter he 



232 JOHN MILTON. 

was a proficient. After his blindness he taught his 
daughters to read the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, with- 
out teaching them to understand these languages ; and 
thus made them auxiliaries in his studies. 

His own learning was immense. He was a perfect 
mUster of Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, and Spa- 
nish. He originally followed Spenser, Shakspeare, and 
Cowley, as his models : but he afterwards formed a 
style of his own ; and though he has had many imi- 
tators, he has never yet found a rival. 

His political principles were strictly republican ; yet 
England was much less a republic under Cromwell 
than under the latter part of Charles the First. In fact, 
in almost every revolution that history records, honest 
men are the dupes of their own sincerity ; while some 
luiprincipled demagogue artfully turns the popular 
phrensy to his own private interest or aggrandisement. 
In theology, Milton strongly inclined to arminianism ; 
but towards the close of his life he seems to have en- 
tered into communion with no religious sect, and enter- 
tained only a certain philosophic religion of the mind, 
founded however on Christianity. 

His demeanour was open and affable ; and his con- 
versation easy, cheerful, and instructive. The prompt- 
ness of his wit qualified him to shine on every occa- 
sion ; he was facetious, grave, or satirical, as the sub- 
ject required ; his judgment was just and profound, 
and his reading almost as extensive as his genius. If 
he had faults and defects, (and who is exe.npt from 
them ?) they were either lost or diminished in the 
brilliancy of his attainments. 

His character as an epic poet is thus admirably sum- 
med up by Dr. Johnson :—" The highest praise of 
genius is original invention. Milton cannot be said to 
have contrived the structure of an epic poem, and 
must therefore yield to thiit vigour and amplitude of 
mind to which all generations njust be indebted, for 



ANDREW MARVELL. 233 

the art of poetical narration, for the texture of th^ 
fable, the variation of incidents, the interposition of 
dialogue, and all the stratagems that surprise and en- 
chain attention. But of all the borrowers from Homer, 
Milton is perhaps the least indebted to him. He was 
naturally a thinker for himself, confident of his own 
abiKties, and disdainful of help or hindrance ; he did 
not refuse admission to the thoughts or images of his 
predecessors, but he did not seek vtheni. From his 
contemporaries he neither courted nor received sup- 
port.: there is, in his writings, nothing by which the 
pride of ether authors might be gratified, or favour 
gained ; jio exchange of praise, nor solicitation of sup- 
port. His great works were performed under dis* 
countenance, and in blindness^ but difficulties va- 
nished at his touch ; he w^as born for whatever is ardu- 
ous ; and his work is not the greatest of heroic poems, 
only because it is not the first.'* 



ANDREW MARVELL. 

Bom 1620— Died 1678. 

Fram l^th James /., to 29th Charles I L 

A MAN who could preserve the most blameless sim- 
plicity of manners amidst the allurements of public 
life, and a noble spirit of independance under the 
occasional pressures of real want ; who would neither 
barter his conscience for a smile, nor sell his vote for 
gam ; who could render himself entirely beloved by 
his friends, and revered by those v/hose principles were 
diametrically opposite to hirs own ; would in these davs 
be regarded as a singular phencm.enon, and infallibly 
niust have possessed som^ extraordinary virtues and 
endowments. Such was Andrew Marvell, the son of 
a minister and schoolmaster at Kingston-upon-HulI. 
t 2 



234 ANDREW MARVELL, 

This incorruptible patriot, and ingenious writer, dis- 
covered an attachment to letters from the earliest dawn 
of reason ; and had made so great proficiency in clas- 
sical learning, that he was admitted a student of Trinity 
college Cambridge when only thirteen years old. Such 
was the promise of his genius, that he had not been 
long in tliat situation before the Jesuits, tliose busy 
agents of the Romish church, thought him a proper 
subject for a proselyte, and accordingly inveigled him 
to London. His father, however, had the good-fortune 
to find him in a bookseller's shop, and prevailed on him 
to return to college ; where he pursued his studies with 
great assiduity, and in due course took his bachelor's 
degree. 

When about eighteen years of age, he lost his father 
by a singular melancholy accident ; which, by as singu- 
lar a series of events, paved the way to his own future 
fortune. 

A widow lady of great respectability and virtue re- 
sided on the other side of the Humber. She had an 
only daughter of eminent beauty and accomplishments ; 
who, on some festive occasion, was allowed to spend a 
night at Mr. MarvelPs house. Next day the young 
lady was anxious to return to her expecting parent ; and 
though it blew such a storm that even the watermen 
earnestly dissuaded her from attempting the passage, 
she was deaf to their remonstrances, and the worthy 
minister determined to accompany her. Just before 
they put oiF from land Mr. Marvell threw his gold- 
headed cane ashore, which he desired might be given 
to his son if any fatal consequences should ensue. His 
presentiment was too just ; he and his companion found 
a watery grave. The mother of the unfortunate young 
lady was long inconsolable; but in time, reflecting on 
the greater loss which young Marvell had sustained, 
she adopted him as her son, took upon her the charge 
qjF his future education, and finally made him her heir* 

3 



ANDREW MARVELL. , 235 

After leaving the university, Marvell made the tour 
of Europe, and began to distinguish himself as a writer 
as well as a scholar. He had a peculiar turn for humour 
and satire, and some of his first essays contain much 
wit. He filled for a short time the situation of secre- 
tary to the English embassy at Constantinople ; and on 
his return to his native country, became first a tutor to 
a young gentleman of fortune, and then joint Latin 
secretary to Cromwell with the immortal Milton. 

A little before the Restoration he was chosen to repre- 
sent his native town in parliament ; and in this honour- 
able character he continued till his death, with un- 
bcJunded applause. So well were his constituents satis- 
fied with his conduct, that they pressed him to accept 
a pension raised among themselves ; a worthy mode of 
remuneration, once sanctioned by custom, but now 
grown obsolete. 

Nor was it only from his townsmen that Mr. Marvell 
gained the highest admiration ; his incolTuptible inte- 
grity rendered him an object of respect to all the virtu- 
ous. By his writings and his conduct he made himself 
obnoxious to government, and more than once was 
obliged to abscond ; yet the greatest men of the court, 
and even the sovereign himself, felt a strong esteem for 
him. As a speaker he was not much distinguished, 
but his influence was very great with the members of 
both houses ; and prince Rupert had such respect for 
his judgment, that he frequently adopted his senti- 
ments, and voted accordingly. On such occasions it 
was a common saying, " that the prince had been with 
his tutor." Indeed such was the intimacy between 
them, that when the indignant pen of Marvell had 
roused all the malice of venal courtiers, and he was 
forced to retire from the busy scene, the prince used 
to visit him in disguise, and preserved his secret invio- 
lable. 

Charles the Second himself took great delight in un- 



236 ANDREW MARVELL. 

bending his mind with the society of Marvell : and 
often invited him to his parties, probably with a view 
of gaining his support ; for it has long been a maxim 
with politicians, ** that every man has his price." Bnt 
all the insinuating arts of the king, and all the vio- 
lence of his ministers, could not shake the resolution 
or corrupt the integrity of Marvell; 'he was abso- 
lutely proof against every teitiptation. One instance 
is particularly worthy of being preserved. After 
spending the evening with Charles, lord Danby was 
dispatched next morning to find out hi'S lodgings ; 
which were then up two pair of stairs, in a small court 
in the Strand. When the treasurer opened the dbbr 
abruptly, Marvell was busily employed in writing; and, 
surprised at such a visit, told his lordship he supposed 
he had mistaken his way. " Not now I have found 
Mr. Marvell,' ' answered the earl ; adding that he was 
commissioned by his majesty to ask what he could do 
to serve him. *^ It is not in his majesty's powder to 
serve me,'' replied Marvell with humour. Coming to 
more serious explanation, he told the treasurer that 
he was well acquainted with the nature of courts, 
having been in many ; and knew that whoever is di- 
stinguished by the favour of his prince is always ex- 
pected to vote in his interest. Lord Danby assured 
him that it was from the sense alone v/hich his majesty 
entertained of his merit, tliat he wished to know if any 
place at court would be acceptable to him. To this 
Marvell answered, that he could not with honour ac- 
cept the offer j since he must either be ungrateful if he 
voted against the king, or false to his country in sup- 
porting the measures of the court. The only favour 
therefore which he begged of his sovereign was, that he 
would be pleased to consider him as one of his most 
faithful subjects ; and that he had done more for his 
interest by refusing than embracing his proffered kind- 
ness. Being at last urged to accept a thousand pounds 



ANDREW MARVELL. 237 

till he could think of something permanent that would 
be agreeable to him, he rejected the mon^y with the 
same steadiness ; though as soon as the lord-treasurer 
was gone, lie was glad to borrow a guinea of a friend. 
Such disinterested virtue w^ll be laughed at by the 
selfish, and scarcely copied by any one in times when 
luxury has deadened the moral feeling : yet to the 
young it furnishes a bright example ; and should be kept 
In view, though they may never be able to attain its 
excellence. The polar star serves to guide the mariner, 
though he never attempts to gain its sphere. 

After a life of private integrity and public worth, 
Marvell resigned his breath in the fifty-eighth year of 
his age, not without strong suspicions of being poison- 
ed. He was buried in the church of St. Giles in the 
Fields ; and his constituents, in grateful remembrance 
cf his patriotic services, collected a sum of money to 
raise a monument over his grave, witli an appropriate 
and elegant inscription, which is here subjoined as a 
just picture of the man. But the rector of the parish 
refused to allow it to be erected : and his only and in- 
deed his best memorials are his life and writings ; 
from which he appears to have been an active and 
zealous champion in defence of civil and religious li- 
berty. 

Near this place 
Lieth the body of Andrew Marvell, esq, 
^ A man so endowed by nature, 

So improved by education, study, and travel. 

So consummated by experience and learning-. 

That, joining the most peculiar grace of wit 

With a singular penetration and strength of judgment, 

^\nd exercising all these in the whole course of his life 

With unalterable steadiness in the way of virtue. 

He became the ornament and example of his age; 

Beloved by good men, feared by bad, admired by all. 

Though imitated, alas I by few. 

And scarcely paralleled by any. 

But a tombstone can neither contain his character. 



238 ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

Nor is marble necessary to transmit it to posteri*-; ; 

It is engraved on the minds of this generation. 

And will always be jegible in his inimitable writings. 

Nevertheless, 

He having served nearly twenty years successively in parliament ; 

And that with such wisdom, dexterity, integrity, and courage. 

As became a true patriot : 

The town of Kingston^n-Hull, 

From which he was constantly deputed to that assembly. 

Lamenting, in his death, the public loss. 
Have erected this monument of their grief and gratitude^ 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

Born 1622— Beheaded 1683. 
" From l^ih James /., to 2>^th Charles. II. 

IN soiU'? minds the love of liberty is paramount to 
every other passion ; and when this has a genume 
stamp, is exerted on proper objects, and displayed on 
proper o<;casions, cold indeed must that soul he which 
feels no ardour from the contemplation of its effects. 
At tlie names of Hampden, Russel, and Sydney, the 
youthful bosom beats high with the throb of patriotism, 
and expands with the glow of emulation. Their me* 
mory has long been consecrated by freedom and their 
country ; they have been embalmed equally in the 
poet's lay and the patriot's harangue. 

According to their own conceptions of diity, they 
acted purely and uprightly? and therefore are entitled 
to respect from such as m.^iy dislike their conduct. Si- 
nister views did not enter into the composition of their 
actions; and if their principles should be deemed 
wrong, their hearts were right. Yet in admitting this, 
it should be impressed on youthful readers that it is 
necessary to distinguish between a real and a spurious 
liberty y and dangerous to imbibe such doctrines of 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 239 

gt)vernment as militate against practical experience, 
or are subversive of established order. 

Thomson, after paying a handsome compliment to 
this illustrious triumvirate, concludes v/ith the following 
character of the distinguished person now under consi- 
deration : 

Of high determin'd spirit, roughly brave. 
By ancient learning to the enlightened love 
Of ancient freedom warm'd. 

Algernon Sydney was the second son of Robert earl 
of Leicester, by a daughter of Henry Percy earl of 
Northumberland. From those dawnlngs of genius 
which early appeared to a f.aher's penetrating eye, the 
greatest encouragement was given to the cultivation of 
his mind. When a boy, he accompanied hif noble 
parent in his embassy to Denmark, and afterwards to 
the court of France. 

The acuteness of young Sydney, and the bent of his 
disposition for an active life, induced the e;irl (who was 
then appointed lord-lieutenant of Ireland) to procure 
him a commission for a troop of horse in his own regi- 
ment. In consequence of this, in die year 1641, he 
repaired to Ireland, together with his brother lord 
viscount Lisle ; and in the succeeding Irish lebellion, 
on various occasions distinguished himself for his per- 
gonal bravery. 

Having acquired the character of a rising hero,, after 
the expiration of two years he had the king's permis-' 
slon to revisit his native country in company with iord^ 
Lisle. But the parliament found means tc seize them 
in Lancashire : nor was it much doubted, from subse- 
quent circumstances, that they wxre perfectly satisfied 
with tlie hands into which they had fallen either 
through accident or choice ; for from this time they 
adhered to their new masters with unshaken fidelity, 
in opposition to a sovereign who both loved and re- 



240 ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

spected them. The step which Algernon had taken 
was Irretrievable, and it appears to have influenced 
every future transaction of his life. 

He soon rose to be a colonel in this new service : 
and when his brother was appointed the parliamentary 
lieutenant-general of Ireland, served on an expedition 
in that kingdom with the highest applause ; where for 
his signal military exploits he was promoted to the 
rank of lieutenant-general of the horse, and constituted 
governor of Dublin. But trusts of such Imxportance 
were little suited to his youthful age : he was soon su- 
perseded, and returned to England. Parliament, how- 
ever, still treated him with the greatest distinction ; and 
as a recompense for the posts which he had lost, made 
him governor of Dover-castle. 

When those who had usurped the powers of the state 
determined on bringing the king to trial, Sydney was 
nominated one of his judges ; but though he was a zea- 
lous republican on patriotic principles, he found means 
to decline taking any part in that nefarious and unpre- 
cedented action. Warmed with the characters of 
some among the most exalted names of Greece and 
Rome, he professed to make Marcus Brutus his model ; 
and when he found that his country had only changed 
an hereditary for an usurping tyrant, he opposed Crom- 
well with a determined spirit, and disdained to accept 
any place or employment under the enslaver of his na- 
tive land. This stern opposition to the protector, 
proves that Sydney had in reality adopted principles 
which others only professed as a mask to allure popu- 
larity. He was an enemy to tyranny in any form, or 
under any appellation ; and coul4 least of all acqui- 
esce In that which was established on the ruins of an- 
cient monarchy. 

As he was consistent throughout, civil liberty was 
his Idol, and whoever violated It was the object of his 
enmity. In the Album of the university of Copen- 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 241 

hagen he wrote and signed these lines, which may be 
considered as a summary of his principles : 

Manns hrec, inimlca tyrannis, 
Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem : 

which are thus translated : 

** To tyrants hostile shall this arm be shown i 
It seeks for peace through Uberty alone." 

From every indication, there cannot be a doubt that 
he would have joined heart and hand in any well-con- 
certed plan for deposing Cromwell, and executing the 
same vengeance upon him as Charles had suffered. 
But the die was cast, and he brooded in silence over 
his country's wrongs. A dawn of hope, however, re- 
vived in his breast, when the gentle and honest Richard 
Cromwell resigned the protectorship. Sydney, pleas- 
ing himself with the idea that the parliament would 
now establish a republican fbrm of government, was 
eager to hold an ostensible place in the administration 
of affairs ; and accordingly was nominated one of the 
council of state, and soon after sent as a commissioner 
to mediate a peace between Denmark and Sweden : 
but the happy Restoration quickly dissipated the illu- 
sive phantom that had appeared before his eyes. 

The earl of Leicester, after remaining loyal to the 
king under every change, would probably have had 
sufficient interest to get his son included in the act of 
oblivion ; but he preferred a voluntary exile, in which 
he continued for seventeen years. During a consider- 
able part of this long period he resided at Rome and 
in its environs ; where he received the most flattering 
attentions from persons of the highest rank, and was 
held in great estimation for his mental and personal 
qualifications. Becoming tired, hcv/ever, with a course 
of fashionable unmeaning forms, and desirous ci wit- 
nessing his favourite republican m^axims realized in 
some existing government, he v/ithdrew to Switzer- 



242 ArCERNON SYDNEY.. 

land ; where he associated with Ludlow and other po^* 
litical refugees* 

He afterwards passed into France ;. and during hl^ 
stay in that country gave a prcxjf of the bluntness of 
his manners, which a stern republican would dignify 
with the appellation of independance ; but as long as as 
gradation of ranks is necessary in polished society, sa 
long wnll respect and civility be estimable aarrd lovely^ 
Being on a hunting-party with Louis the Fourteenth,, 
his majesty took a particular fancy to the horse w^hich 
Sydney rode ; and sent a message to request tliat he 
would part w-ith it, and fix his price* Sydney only re- 
plied, that his horse was not to be sold^ The king> 
who was unaccustomed to &uch language, sent peremp- 
tory orders to offer him a sum of money fully ade- 
quate to its worth; and, in case of his refusal, to bring 
the animal by force* Sydney, when apprised of this, 
instantly took a pistol and shot his horse ; remarking^ 
that it was born a free creature, had served a free 
man, and should not be mastered by a king of slaves. 

His father, the earl of Leice.ster, being sensible of 
his approaching death, expressed the strongest desire 
once more to see his son, and obtained a special pardon 
from the king for his past offences* Accordingly his 
filial duty overcame his rigid political, principles, and 
he returned 5 but brought with him all his prejudicesr 
During his residence in France, he had detected some 
mean artifices, v/hich had for their object to extort mo» 
ney from the people of England under the false pre- 
text of an approaching war ; while he was convinced 
there was no real misunderstanding between the two 
courts. He inveighed with his usual asperity against 
such a fraudulent scheme, and exposed the king and 
his administration in all the virulence of invective. 

The earl of Leicester dying soon after, Sydney felt 
himself at liberty to censure though he cotdd not re- 
form. The eyes of administration were consequently 



ALGERNON SYDNEY. 243 

turned on such an obnoxious character, an^f it was de- 
termined to keep him out of parliament l>y the most 
unwarrantable stretches of power. In this they twice 
succeeded : but our patriot's courage rose superior to 
all opposition ; he exposed the duplicity of govern- 
ment with such force as carried conviction ; he was 
zealous in promoting the bill for excluding tlie duke of 
York from the throne ;, he associated only with the 
most determined enemies of the corrupt court ; and by 
these means provoked its vengeance to such a degree, 
that a resolution vvas taken to ruin this formidable ene- 
my, by any methods tliat ingenious malice, seconded 
by power, could devise. 

Accordingly it was not long before an opportunity 
was found to let Sydney feel the strength of tliat en- 
mity which he had provoked. He w*as charged, on 
the most incompetent evidence, with being concerned 
in what is termed the Rye-house plot. His friend, the 
virtuous lord William Russel, who had made himself 
equally obnoxious by his manly defence of civil liberty, 
had been first condemned en a similar accusation, not 
only without evidence, but agamst it ; and Sydney was 
singled out as tlie next victim of political vengeance. 

He was brought to trial in the court of king's-bench, 
before the sanguinary Jeffreys, on the 21s!; of Novem- 
ber 1683. Three of the witnesses in favour of the pro- 
secution could swear only to vague reports, gathered 
from others ; which nevertheless were admitted as evi- 
<fence, though Sydney justly denied the legahty of such 
proceedings. At last lord Howard, a man of the 
most abandoned principles and character, i>ut a fit 
tool for such a purpose, positively swore diat he had 
been present at two meetings, when business of a rebel- 
lious nature was agitated by the conspirators,: and in 
order to strengtlien the evidence of a man who had lost 
all pretensions to be believed, the attorney-general, by 
a most shameful and unprecedented expedient^ pro- 



244 ALGERNON SYDNEY. 

duced a passage from Sydney's Discourses on Govern- 
ment; which, though an abstract prmclple, without 
the least reference to the immediate subject of the 
charge, was deemed sufficient to convict him. Such 
a perversion of the law of evidence, was never be- 
fore known in the worst times of our history; but 
perhaps there never was a judge who disgraced the 
bench like Jeffreys. 

Sydney made a manly defence, and excepted against 
the unparalleled means that had been used to convict 
him. In the most solemn manner he abjured all per- 
sonal knowledge of the pretended plot ; and called 
God to witness, with uplifted hands and eyes, that he 
did not believe any such to exist in the contemplation 
of others. Several noblemen of unimpeachable vera- 
city invalidated the testimony of Howard, and spoke 
to the innocence of Sydney : but a packed jury, and a 
l)loody judge, declared him guilty ; and he suffered 
death, with the most heroic fortitude and composure, 
©n Tower-hill, December 7th, 1683. 

His attainder was reversed in the first year of Wil- 
Ham and Mary ; and that solemn justice was done to 
his memory, which had been denied to himself. 

His character has thus been drawn by bishop Bur- 
net, who was well acquainted with him : " He was 
a man of extraordinary courage, and steady even 
to obstinacy ; sincere, but of a rough and boisterous 
disposition, and Impatient of contradiction. He seemed 
to be a christian, but of a particular form : he thought 
it consisted in a certain divine philosophy in the mind ; 
but he was against all public worship, and every thing 
that looked like a church. He was stiff to all republi- 
can principles : and such an enemy to every thing that 
looked like monarchy, that he set himself in a high 
opposition against Cromwell when he assumed the pro- 
tectorate. He had studied the history of government 
in ail its branches, beyond any man I ever knew.'* 



JOHN TILLOTSON* 24^^ 

His Discourses on Government have been so highly 
esteemed by some, that they are by them regarded as 
an ample compensation for the loss of Cicero's six books 
" Of a Commonwealth.'' They certainly abound with 
energetic sentiments, and marks of deep penetration : 
but his collective principles are not reducible to prac- 
tice ; and are, in many respects, only ingenious specu- 
lations. In short, Algernon Sydney commands our 
respect rather than our love : he was too inflexible for 
a politician who really wished to serve his country; 
and had none of those amiable weaknesses which conci- 
liate affection, and blunt the edge of opposition and 
animosity. 



JOHN TILLOTSON, 

ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 

Bom 1630— Died 1694. 
From 5th Charles /., to 5th William HI. 

IF ever there was a man whose life in a more pecu- 
liar mani>er evidenced the influence of genuine Christi- 
anity ; who rose without an effort or a v/ish, b)' dint of 
merit alone ; and whose highest exaltation gave more 
pleasure to the virtuous and the good than to himself; 
it was archbishop Tillotson. Though all cannot reach 
his eminence, or equal his success, he furnishes one of 
the finest models for his profession, from its humblest 
to its highest sphere. The gifts of Fortune are often 
capriciously bestowed, and no one can be sure of her 
favours ; but whoever copies this amiable and accom- 
plished divine, will be rich in what the smiles of the 
world cannot give, nor its frowns take away. 

John Tillotson, one among the brightest ornaments 
©f the English church, was the son of a respectable 

7 



246 JOHN TILLOTSOK, 

clothier ; and was born at Sowerby, near Halifax, in 
Yorkshire. Both his parents were rigid non-conform- 
ists : and he was initiated in the same principles ; 
.which, however, his maturer sense and more hberal 
mind soon taught him to reject. 

His proficiency in grammatical learning was great, 
and almost superior to his years. This aptness for 
study induced his father to send him to the university 
of Cambridge, where he was entered a pensioner of 
Ciare-hall ; and in due course took the degrees of ba^ 
chelor and master of arts ; having, before he com- 
menced master, been chosen to a fellowship of his col- 
lege. 

The love of truth was the ruling passion of his heart, 
and he sought it with sedulous zeal. He was, early 
disgusted with the narrow views of tlie puritans ; and' 
had the good-fortune to read a celebrated performance 
of Chillingworth\s, which fixed the future bias of his 
mind. Being superior to the prejudices of education, 
he relinquished whatever was wrong, and adhered to 
whatever was right, in the principles and conduct of 
those among whom he had been bred ; and no man 
Was more instrumental in removing the well-meant 
though weak scruples of such as rejected communion 
with the church of England ; or had a more tender re- 
gard for true- liberty of conscience, when serious per- 
suasion, and the force of cirgument, could not operate 
conviction of the truth. ^ 

He loved the non-conformists, after he Mad rejected 
their principles ; and for some of them, who had been 
connected widi him by die early ties of duty or of 
friendship, he retained an affectionate regard that no- 
thing could dissolve. But he chiefly sought associates, 
after he had settled his mind, among the most eminent 
divines of the established church ; and between him 
and Dr. John Wilkins, the future bishop of Chester, 
there existed an intimacy and an unreserved exchange 



ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 247 

of opinions, which contributed to their mutual im- 
provement. 

Having left the university about 165G, he was en^ 
gaged as tutor to the son of Edward Prideaux, esq. at- 
torney-general to Cromwell, in which situation he spent 
some time. The time when he entered into holy or- 
ders cannot now be ascertained, but it appears that 
his first employment in the church was that of curate 
at Cheshunt in Hertfordshire. Here the young divine 
began to display those mild and gentle manners, that 
persuasive and impressive eloquence, which laid the 
foundation of his fortune and his fame. 

As he was now settled in the vicinity of the metro^ 
polis, he was not unfrequently invited to appear in tlie 
pulpit there; for his reputation as a sacred orator, and 
the elegance of his compositions, made him peculiarly 
acceptable to such as could appreciate merit and abilities. 
He was disgusted with the pulpit eloquence of the times j 
and struck out a style and manner of his own, which 
have been justly esteemed a model for succeeding ages. 
Being deeply acquainted with theological subjects, and 
possessed of a sound judgment and a pu],-ity of taste^, 
of which there were few examples among the preach- 
ers of that time ; he soon attracted so much deserved 
notice, that in 1662 he was oiFered the parish of St. 
Mary Aldermanbury, the patronage of which was 
vested in the parishioners. For some reasons, now un- 
known, he declined this benefice: but was soon pre- 
sented to the rectory of Keddington, in Suffolk ; in 
which however he was scarcely settled, before the 
society of Lincoln*s-inn appointed him their preacher. 
But so strongly were even the courts of law tainted 
with fanaticism, and so accustomed to the cant of those 
times, that at first the rational piety of Tillotson was 
disliked, and complaints were sometimes heard against 
what is now allowed to constitute the principal beauty 
of his discourses. Tills however wa.s temporary : by 



2 IS JOHN TILLOtSON, 

degrees a better taste began to prevail ; and our excel* 
lent divine not only overcame the prejudices of the so* 
elety, but, being chosen lecturer of St. Lawrence Jewry, 
he was followed by a numerous audience for instruc- 
tion, and by many of his OAvn profession for improve- 
ment. 

From zeal to discharge faithfully his sacred function, 
he determined to oppose the tvro growing evils of 
Charles the Second's reign, atheism and popery. He 
not only combated them in the pulpit, but from time 
to time published such tracts or sermons as were cal- 
culated for a more extensive effect ; aad his laudable 
and pious intentions did not lose their reward. 

In 1666 he, took the degree of doctor in divinity; 
and having married Elizabeth French, niece to Oliver 
Cromwell, and who was connected by affinity with his 
friend Dr. John Wilklns, he was appointed to preach 
the consecration sermon of that prelate to the see of 
Chester. Though averse to solicitation himself, he 
found in the zeal of his friends an antidote against 
neglect; for in 1670 he was made prebendary of Can- 
terbury, and tw^o years afterwards dean of that church, 
having previously obtained a prebend in St. Paul's. 

Dr. Tillotson hal been seven years on the list of 
chaplains to Charles the Second ; but the zeal which, 
on all occasions, he displayed against popery and irre- 
liglon, rendered him no favourite with that monarch ; 
and he was rather advanced by the interest of friends 
V7ho knew his value, than cordially loved by the court. 
He therefore contented himself witli discharging the 
duty of his station, without indulging hopes of prefer- 
ment ;' and never obtruded himself on notice, except 
when the interests of religion, or the welfare of the 
establishment, were at stake. When a declaration for 
liberty of conscience was published, which, under the 
mask of moderation, had a view to th^ indulgence of 
papists, the dignified clergy took the alarm, and the 






2'o /h^^ p 





Mairrell 



Garrict 





Locke 



MarllDTo ' 




Xe^^on 




Milton 



PrlnUd /or Jiu-harci ThiLtM, S'A'^eyfJBr^i^c ^tJuTie rSo^. 



ipw^pi^^ipippir 



AROHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 2^4^ 

king complained to the primate Sheldon of their refrac- 
tory conduct. The archbishop called some of them 
together, and begged their advice. Here the wisdom 
and firmness of Tillotson were eminently conspicuous. 
He suggested, that since the king professed the pro- 
testant religion, it would be a thing unprecedented to 
forbid the clergy to preach in defence of it. The sen- 
timent was so just, and the argument so conclusive, 
that it was unanswerable ; aad the clergy seem to have 
acquiesced in his opinion, if it should have been neces- 
sary to defend their conduct. Nevertheless, Dr. Til- 
lotson was such a friend to moderation, that early in 
1668 he joined in a treaty for the admission of such 
protestant dissenters as could be brought within the 
pale of the church, by making mutual concessions ; 
but the violence of the intemperate rendered this plan 
abortive. 

Meanwhile his preaching and his writings equally 
tended to preserve the establishment from the encroach- 
ments of popery, and his private exertions in the same 
cause were remarkably successful. He had the happi- 
ness to convert the earl of Shrewsbury to the protestant 
faith ; and he lived to see his noble proselyte raised 
to a dukedom, and made secretary of state to king 
William. 

In proportion as these labours raised him in the estU 
mation of the people, tliey alienated the affection of the 
court, which was then suspected of an inclination to 
popery. But Tillotson did not shrink from his duty ; 
and the press \vas continually producing some work of 
his which had for its object the exaltation of pure reli- 
gion, or the recovery of those who wandered in the de- 
lusions of vice and error. 

On the discovery of the Rye-house plot, a melan- 
choly scene was disclosed, w^hich affected tlie tenderest 
sensibility of Tillotson. His virtuous and illuslrious 
friend lord William Russel being deeply implicated ia 



25Q JOHK TILLOTSON, 

this charge, and afterwards brought to the block, lie 
attended on that nobleman with the most alTectionate 
assiduity ; he armed him with the consolations of reli- 
gion, and supported his afflicted family with every re- 
lief that the hopes of a better existence can bestow. 

In 16S5 he had another opportunity of peculiarly 
displaying his amiable character. The revocation of 
the edict of Nantz drove thousands of the French pro- 
testants to this country ; and many of them settled at 
Canterbury, where their posterity still continue. The 
king having granted briefs to collect alms for them,, 
Tillotson was peculiarly active in promoting tlieir sue* 
cess ; and when Dr. Beveridge, one of the prebenda- 
xies of Canterbury, refused to read the briefs, as being 
contrary to the rubric, he was silenced by the dean with 
this energetic reply : <' Doctor, doctor, charity is above 
rubrics." 

Such was tlie high character of dean Tillotson, that 
when the settlement of the crown on king William for 
life was agitated in parliament, tlie princess Anne of 
Deilmark, who had been advised by the Jacobites to 
oppose it as prejudicial to her own interest, consulted 
him on this monfentous occasion ; and, from a regard' 
to his persuasions, is said to liave relinquished her prior 
claim. On the accession of William and Mary, to 
whose advancement he had been zealously attached, he 
was admitted into high favour and confidence at courts 
and made clerk of the closet. 

Still however the ambition of Tillotson led him no 
further than to solicit an exchange of his deanery for 
that of St. Paul's, when the latter became vacant by 
the. promotion of Stillingfleet to the see of Worcester. 
This moderate wish, which tended to a diminution 
and not an increase of his income, was readily grant- 
ed I but his majesty had higher promotion in view for 
this amiable and disinterested divhie. 

Archbishop Sancv'oft having refused to take the 



ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, 251 

oaths of allegiance to William and Mary after their 
title had been recognised by parliament, his suspension 
became necessary ; and, if he continued refractory, his 
removal also. The king entertained such an exalted 
Opinion of Tillotson, that he immediately thought of 
making him primate. The reluctance with which Til- 
lotson himself fell into his majesty's views, is forcibly 
expressed in a letter to lady Russel. He had already 
refused a mitre ; and, of all things, his ambition seems 
to have been least directed to the primacy. But the 
earnest representations of the king, and a zeal for his 
service, at last overcame his resolution, and he was 
consecrated archbishop of Canterbury, in May 1691. 
Immediately afterwards he was sworn of the privy- 
couiicil ; and set about the duties of his high office 
with the same religious zeal, tempered with modera- 
tion, as had adorned his former life. 

When Dr. Tillotson refused the archbishopric, he had 
wisely appreciated the difficulties of the station, and 
the obloquy to which it would expose him. He fore- 
saw that the successor of Sancroft, whoever he might 
be, would be an object for all the virulence and malice 
of the nonjurors ; and not long after his promotion 
he felt his apprehension realised. 

He was insulted by incendiary letters, by the 
grossest libels, and the keenest invectives ; yet his chris- 
tian temper never forsook him. He interceded for those 
who had been convicted of the most bitter calumnies 
against him, and on a bundle of papers found after his 
death was this inscription : " These are libels ; I pray 
God forgive the writers, as I do." 

That a man whose blameless life, whose exalted me- 
rit, had been so long known and allowed by the public, 
should at once become the object of unmerited detrac- 
tion, can only be accounted for from the enmity of poli- 
tical opposition, and that envy which ever attends 
high station. His mild inoffensive manners too might 



252 JOHN TILL0T50N, 

possibly provoke the injuries of the base. Among those 
who are destitute of magnanimity themselves, forbear- 
ance gives confidence to insult. How often does malice 
shoot its arrows at the patient spirit, while daring guilt 
escapes its attack ! The gentle sheep is the prey of the 
most contemptible animals, but the lordly lion defies 
the approach of an aggressor. 

Though the ungenerous treatment w^hich this truly 
dignified character received from his enemies probably 
disturbed his internal quiet, it had no influence on his 
conduct. He pursued the suggestions of religion and 
virtue, and soared above the petty malice of the con- 
jtemptlble. He shewed no pride in his elevation, no air 
teration in his way of thinkuig or of acting ; and as if 
he meant to read an impressive lesson to ail post^ity, 
and to correct that false estimate of life which places 
happiness in grandeur, he left among his papers the 
following reflections upon rank : — " One would be apt 
to wonder that Nehemiah should reckon a huge bill of 
fare, and a vast number of promiscuous guests, among 
his virtues and good deeds, for which he desires God 
to remember him; but upon better consideration, be- 
sides the bounty, and sometimes charity, of a great 
table, provided there be nothing of vanity or ostenta- 
tion in it, there may be exercised two very considerable 
virtues ; one in tem.perance, and the other sek-denial : 
in a man's being contented, for the sake of the public, 
to deny himself so much, as to sit down every day to 
a feast, and to eat continually in a crowd, and almost 
never to be alone, especially when (as it often happens) 
a great part of the company that a man must have, is 
the company that a man would not have. I doubt it 
will prove but a melancholy business whfen a man comes 
to die, to have made a great noise and bustle in the 
world, and to have been known far and near ; but all 
this while to have been hid and concealed from himself. 
It is a vei7 odd and fantastical sort cf a life, for a man 



ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 253 

t<y b6 continually from home, and most of all a stranger 
at hk o^^-n house. It is surely an uneasy thing to sit 
always in a frame, and to be perpetually upon a man's 
guard ; not to be able to speak a careless word, or to 
use a negligent posture, without observation and. cen« 
sure. Men are apt to think that they who are in the 
high^^t places, and have the most power, have most li- 
berty to say and do v/hat they please: but it is quite 
otherwise ; for they have tlie least liberty, because they 
are most observed- It is net mine own observation : 
a much wiser man, I mean Tully, says, * In maxima 
quaque fortuna minimum lice re ;' that is. They that are 
in the highest and greatest conditions, have, of all 
others, the least liberty. All these, and many more, 
are the evils which attend on greatness ; and the envy 
tliat pursues it, is the result of ignorance and vanity. '^ 

From his first advancement to the primacy. Dr. TiU 
lotson had begun to conceive the most enlarged designs 
for the welfare of the church and the interest of reli^ 
gion ; and in these noble views he received every encou- 
ragement and support from the throne : but Providence, 
in its infinite wisdom, called him from this sublunary 
state before he had a full opportunity of employing the 
powers with which he was invested, to the best pur- 
poses for which they were given. He did not survive 
his advancement much more than three years ; a period 
too small for effecting im2:>ortant ch;inges, vdiich should 
always be gradual and almost imperceptible. "While 
attending divine service at Whitehall on Sunday, No- 
vember 18, 1694^, he was seized with the palsy. The 
fit was slow in its advances, but fatal in its effects. 
His articulation became indistinct, but his soul shoiae 
serene and calm amid the conflict. In brqken words he 
thanked his Maker that he felt his conscience at ease, 
and that he had nothing further to do but to await the 
v/ill of heaven. 

Though Dr. Tillot5on had been so much traduced 



'254; JOHN TILLOTSON. 

during life by the disaiFected and the depraved, the 
mmds of men now underwent such a sudden conversion, 
that his death created universal sorrow. Never was a 
subject more sincerely lamented, or a funeral more nu- 
merously ittended. All ranks came forward volun- 
tarily to pay to the memory of this good man, whose 
virtues and station no longer excited envy, the homage 
of their tears ; and to assist at the last solemnity. He 
was buried at the church of St. Lawrence Jewry ; 
where he had formerly displayed his eloquence, and at- 
tracted the attention of the public. 

Not only malice subsided, or was ashamed of the en- 
mity which It had borne him, but all descriptions of 
men joined in his praise ; and he deserved well the 
loudest plaudits of gratitude and virtue. His whole 
life was exemplary. In his domestic connections, in his 
friendships, and his whole commerce with the world, 
he was easy and humble, frank, humane, and bountiful. 
He distributed his charity with such a liberal hand, and 
despised the accumulation of money to such a degree, 
that he left nothing for his family after the payment of 
his debts, except the copy-right of his sermons, which 
was sold for two thousand five hundred guineas. 

As a theologist, archbishop Tillotson ranks very high, 
even in the opinion of foreign nations. His sermons 
have been frequently printed ; and will always be read 
with pleasure and improvement, as long as regard shall 
be paid to sound divinity adorned by good sense. They 
have been translated into several languages, and re- 
ceived this deserved and appropriate panegyric from 
the able critic Le Clerc : — " The merit of Tillotson is 
above any commendation In my power to bestow; it is 
formed en t' .• ^ union of an extraordinary clearness of 
conception^ a great penetration, an exquisite talent of 
reasoning, a profound knowledge of true divinity, a 
solid piety, a most singular perspicuity, and an unaf- 
fected elegance of style, with every other quality tliat 



JOHN LOCKE, 255 

was decorous in a man of his order. His pulpit ha- 
rangues are for the most part exact dissertations, and are 
capable of bearing the test of the most rigorous exa- 
mination." 



J O H N L O C K E- 

Bom 1632— Died 1704. 
From Itb Charles /., to 2d Jnne. 

A PHILOSOPHER will ever attract veneration iit 
proportion to the solidity of his principles, and the con- 
formity tliat his practice bears to his doctrines. Locke, 
'^ who made the whole internal world his own," who 
.scanned our perceptions and our powers with intuitive 
clearness, who fixed civil liberty on the basis of reason, 
and made religion appear amiable by his life and con- 
versation, will live to the latest ages in the grateful 
memory of his country and of mankind, whom he en- 
lightened and improved. 

This celebrated philosopher was descended from a 
genteel family in Somersetshire, but which had been con- 
siderably reduced. His father was originally bred to 
tlie profession of the law ; but on the commencement 
of the civil w^ars, took up arms in the service of the 
parliament, and rose to the rank of captain. The soa 
was^born at Warrington near Bristol ; and from his ten- 
derest Infancy experienced the happy effects of pater- 
nal solicitude, and attention to his improvement. In 
due time he was sent to Westminster school, where he 
remained till the age of nineteen : he was then entered 
of Christ-church ; and soon distinguished himself by 
the promptness of his ingenuity, and the variety aild 
extent of his acquirements. 

Having taken his degree in arts, he commenced the 
study of physic ; and after going through the prepu* 
ratory courses, resolved to practise at Oxford. Tlie 

M 



"256 JOHN LOCKE. 

strength of his constitution, however, being found a»- 
-equal to the fatigues of that profession, and his success 
probably not being very great, he gladly accepted aa 
oiFer of being secretary to sir William Swan, who was 
appointed envoy to the court of Brandenburg in 1664. 
This employment was of no long duration, but it was 
not without advantages. It gave Mr. Locke an insight 
into men and business, and paved the way to his better 
reception afterwards in the world. 

Resuming his professional studies at Oxford, he be- 
gan to distinguish himself by his contempt of die scho- 
lastic jargon, and by his general progress in sound phi- 
losophy. While thus laudably occupied, an incident 
changed the complexion of his fortune, and gave 
greater scope to the energies of his mind. He had not 
yet found a patron, without which genius and merit at 
that time seldom rose : and he found one, without ex- 
pecting it, in lord Ashley, afterwards the celebrated 
earl of Shaftesbury. 

His lordship, having an abscess in his breast, was ad- 
vised to drink the waters of Astrop near Banbury 5 and 
sent to a physician at Oxford, to provide him s#me 
against his arrival in that city. This gentleman, being 
called away by other business, left his commission to 
Ml*. Locke ; who soon made such an impression on 
lord Ashley by the urbanity of his manners and the 
..strength of liis understanding, that he was incited to 
accompany his lordship to Astrop ; and having, by his 
medical advice, been instrumental in saving this noble- 
man's life, he was afterwards taken into his house, and 
introduced to the acquaintance of other distinguished 
persons. His lordship indeed was so partial to Mr., 
Locke, that he would not allow him to submit to prac- 
tise physic out of his own family, except among a few 
particular friends. 

In this situation of elegance and refinement, he con* 
tlnued several years with little intermission; and 



JOHN LOCKE. 257 

vs^tched his gi*and work, the Essay on Human Underr 
standing ; but was prevented from making any consi- 
derable progress in it, by being appointed secretary of 
presentations, when hh patron was raised tx) the dignity 
of lord-chancetlor. 

When Shaftesbury was deprived of die seals, Mr* 
Locke, wlio had enjoyed his most unreserved confidence, 
fell into disgrace with him. However, his lordship be- 
ing still president of the board of trade, he was api 
pointed secretary ; which office he held till the commis- 
sion was dissolved in 1674-, when his public employ- 
ments were at an end. 

Like a man who wisely considered the instability of 
fortune, he still retained his studentship at CJirist-church : 
to which place he occasionally resorted; allured bf 
books, literary conversation, and a pure air* Here he 
took his degree of bachelor in medicine, in 1675 : and 
for the benefit of his health, which he felt declining* 
he the same year visited Montpelier f where he made 
5ome stay, and contracted several valuable friendships. 
Though he did not neglect his profession, in which he 
had acquired considerable reputation with the intel- 
ligent, his thoughts seem to have been chiefly directed 
to his " Essay ;'' but this work remained as yet in a 
very imperfect state. 

In 1679 lord Shaftesbury, being again called Into 
office, sent for Mr. Locke; but his noble patron, being 
disgraced and imprisoned in a few months, had no op- 
portunity of serving his friend ; by whom he was im- 
mediately followed when his lordship flew into Holland 
to avoid prosecution. Being involved in the disgrace, 
and implicated in the charges brought against lord 
Shaftesbury, Mr. Locke became so obnoxious to the 
court, that he was removed from his studentship bv the 
royal authority ; a proceeding which he thought very 
irregular and unjust*. 

After this example of what he had to expect froni 
M 2 



258 JOHN LOCKE. 

government, our philosopher tlionght it prudent to re- 
main in exile, till the accession of James the Second ; 
when, by the friendly interference of sir William Penn, 
he was offered a pardon ; which, with the spirit of a 
man conscious of innocence, he refused, alleging that 
the acceptance of a pardon would be a sort of confes- 
sion that he had been guilty of some crime. 

On the duke of Monmouth's invasion he was again 
the object of jealousy, and the English envoy at the 
Hague demanded to have him delivered up. Having 
intelligence of this, he absconded ; and employed him- 
self on his Essay till the suspicion against him appear- 
ed to be wholly groundless ; when he again returned. 

In 1687 he became a member of a literary society at 
Amsterdam, composed of several celebrated characters 
who met weekly to discourse on subjects of universal 
learning ; and the same year he finished his great work, 
which had at intervals engaged his attention during 
nine years. Soon afterwards he published an abridg- 
ment of ft in French, as if to feel the pulse of the pub- 
lic ; and finding that the expectation which he wished 
to raise was confirmed, he put the entire work to press 
on his arrival in England with the princess of Orange, ' 
in February 1 689. 

Being justly regarded as a sufferer for the principles 
of the Revolution, as well as a man of worth and extra- 
ordinary abilities, he had considerable pretensions t6 the 
notice of government, and is said to have had it in his 
power to obtain a post of importance : but so small 
was his ambition, that he declined a public mission to 
any court ; and was satisfied with the place of com- 
missioner of appeals, worth about two hundred pounds 
a year. 

The state of his health, which was never verygood, 
being at this time extremely indifferent, he had the hap- 
piness to attract the notice of sir Francis Masham and 
his lady, who kindly offered him an apartment at 



JOHN LOCKE. 259 

Gates, In Essex. This he accepted : and here he spent 
idmost the whole remainder of his days, in a society to 
which he was endeared; with a tranquillity suiting a 
philosopher, ard a felicity which rarely tails even to a 
philosopher's lot. 

In this social retirement, he pursued his studies with- 
out interruption ; and the iirst fruit of them was his 
famous treatise, on Government, one of the best on that 
subject which any language can afFordo His letters on 
Toleration too, which appeared at intervals ; together 
wich a variety of controversial, political, and religious 
pieces ; gained him an increasing celebrity, wmch' tire 
efforts of literary opponents served only to raise. 

In 1695 king William made him one of the com- 
missioners of trade and plantations, which office h« re- 
tained five years : but nov/ feeling an asthma which had 
long afflicted him, beginning to subdue his vital powers, 
he resigned his place, and settled wholly at Gates ; 
where he employed the remainder of his life in study- 
ing the scriptures, which had ever been the rule of his 
conduct, and now were the solace of his declining 
days. 

His dissolution approaching by perceptible though 
slow advances, he prepared himself for the last scene with 
the aids which Christianity supply, and with the calm- 
ness of a true phllosoplier. The day before his death, 
while lady Ma.sham was sitting by his bedside, he ex- 
horted her to regard this world only as a state of prepa- 
ration for a better; adding that he had lived long 
enough, and expressing his gratitude to God for the; 
happiness which had fallen to his lot. He expired 
without a groan on the 28th of October 1704- ; and 
v/as interred in the church of Gates, where a monu- 
ment is erected to his memory, with a modest Inscrip- 
tion written by himself. He died sincerely lamented 
by the good and the wise, and his fame has suffered no 
diminution from the lapse of a centurv. 



260 JOHN LOCKE* 

His character, his manners, and sentiments, are brieffy 
conveyed in the following abstract, taken from an ac- 
count of this great man by a person who knew him 
well. It furnishes a noble model for imitation. 

" Mr. Locke had great knowledge of the world, and 
©f its business. He won esteem by his probity. His 
wisdom, his experience, and his gentle and obliging 
manners, g;uned him the respect of his inferiors, the 
esteem of his equals, and the friendship and confidence 
of the most exalted ranks. At first he was free of 
good advice ; but experience of the unfavourable man- 
ner in which it is generally received, made him after- 
wards more reserved. ' - 

" In conversation he was inclined to the solid and 
serious ; but when occasion naturally offered, he gave 
into the free and facetious with pleasure and grace. 
He was no enemy to delicate and innocent raillery ; or 
%o anecdote aptly introduced, and naturally told. 

*« He loved to talk with mechanics, and used to say 
that the knowledge of the arts contained more tme 
philosophy than learned hypotheses. By putting ques- 
tions to artificers, he would sometimes discover a se- 
cret not well understood ; and assist to ^ive them views 
entirely new, for their own profit when carried into 
practice. 

♦' He was so far from affecting a studied gravity, that 
he frequently turned it into ridicule ; arwi admired and 
quoted on such occasions the famous maxim of Roche- 
fbucault, that gravity is a mysterious deportment of the 
body in order to conceal the defects of the mind. 

*' In every thing he delighted to employ his reason ; 
nor was any thing useful beneath his care, so that he 
appeared capable of small things as well as great. It 
was a common observation v.ith him, tliat there is an 
art in every thing ; and the manner in which he set 
about the most trifling object, gave a confirmation to " 
his remark.'^ 



( 261 } 
SIR JOHN HOLT, 

i^ORD-CHIEF-JUSTrCE OF THE ICING^S BENGK^ 

Born 1642— Died 1709. 
Jrom 11 th Charles /., io Itb Ame^ 

IT h^s been said by a celebrated poet, that <^ an ho- 
nest man's" the noblest work of God.'* However this 
sentiment, in the abstract, may be controverted on sub- 
stantial grounds (as simple honesty is rather perhaps a. 
passive than an active virtue), yet it will not be dis- 
puted, that an honest and able lawyer is one of the 
most valuable members of society. Both honesty and 
ability, however, without the concurrence of fortune^ 
are frequently lost to the world 5 but it was the happier 
lot of Holt to fill a station which developed and em- 
blazoned his virtues and his talents. He was charac- 
terized by the Tatler under the glorious title of Verus ; 
by his profession he has ever been considered as a lumi^ 
nary of the first order, and by his country as a spotless^ 
patriot. 

- Thame in Oxfordshire had the honour of producing 
riiis great ornament of the law. He was the son of sir 
Thomas Holt, who flourished in the same profession 
during the reign of Charles the Second ; and who be- 
came recorder of Abingdon, to which town he after- 
wards removed with his family. At the grammar- 
school there young Holt received the rudiments of his 
education ; and was distinguished for a vivacity of dis- 
position, and for his early, attainments. In due course 
he became gentleman-commoner of Qri el college, Ox- 
ford, imder the tuition of Mr. Francis Barry. What 
progress he made at the university, is uncertain; it- 
seems probable that he was more distinguished for 
sf rightliness than application : but he did not remain^- 



262 LORD-CHIEF-JUSrrCE HOLT. 

here long ; for In the seventeenth year of his age he en* 
fered himself of Gray's inn, where his assiduity soon 
became as conspicuous as his abilities. He studied the 
common law with indefatigable industry, and speedtly 
gained the reputation of an able barrister. 

In the reign of James the Second he was made re- 
corder of London by tlie king^s letters-patent ; the city 
having then lost the privilege of electing its own offi- 
cers, which wsis not; restored till the Revolution. In 
this character he discharged his duty with high applause, 
and received the honour of knighthood ; but refusing 
to sanction the abolition of the test, and the assumed 
dispensing power of the king, he gave such offence at' 
court, that he was removed from his place. He did not^ 
i:.owever, lose the fruits of his firm and honest conduct. 
A good man may be degraded, but cannot be dis- 
graced. From this time Holt became more conspicu- 
ous in the public eye, and his integrity marked him out 
for due reward when happier times should arrive. 

He was chosen a member of the convention parlia- 
ixient In 1688; and was appointed one of the managers 
on the part of the commons at the conferences held 
with th^peerc, respecting the abdication of James and 
the vacancy of the throne. Here he had an ample 
field for displaying his legal talents; and a most glori-^ 
ous opportunity of shewing his attachment to the prin-^ 
ciples of the constitution, which are equally remote 
from despotic power and democratical control. 

His judicious and patriotic fcehaviour on this occa- 
sion, v/as the probable cause of his advancement on the 
li;ippy accession of William and Mary. Next year he 
was constituted lord-chief-justiee of the king's bench, 
and sworn a member of the privy- council. Though still 
young for such an important station, his contemporaries 
allow^ that he filled it w^ith signal honour to himself, 
and benefit to his country. Being attached to civil li- 
berty^ he suffered uo bias oi gratitude, no uiflueuce 



LORD-CHIEF-JUSTICE HOLT. 263 

however greaC, to divert him from the line of duty ; and 
in some very remarkable causes, intimately affecting 
the life and liberty of the subject, he decided with that 
purity and independance which ought ever to direct a 
dispenser of justice. Forcible and perspicuous in his 
defiaitions, and possessing a discriminating judgment 
wlilcli stripped off the glosses of chicane, his inferences 
had all the weight of autliority, because they bore the 
seal of truth. 

In th^ famous Banbury case, he exhibited an illustri- 
ous instance of public spirit and inflexible rectitude. 
Lord Banbury was indicted by the name of Charles 
Knoliys, esq. for the murder of his brother-in-law, cap- 
tain Lawson. The house of lords had previously dis- 
allowed his peerage ; but on his demurrrug to their de- 
cision, and claiming trial by his peers, lord-chief-justice 
Holt, after the case had been solemnly and repeatedly 
argued by the crown lav.yers and the counsel for de- 
fendant, declared in favour of lord Banbury^ and 
proved by tlie most incontrovercibie arguments, that a 
supreme court, /;/ the last resort^ has no jurisdiction in aa 
original case. " The house of peers," said he, ** has 
jurisdiction over its onvn members, and is a, supreme 
court : but it is the law which has invested them with 
such ample authoiitles ; and therefore it is no diminu- 
tion of tlieir power to say, that they ought to observe 
those limits which the law has prescribed to them, and 
v/hich in other respects has made them so great." As 
to the law of parliament (which had been talked of), 
he did not know of any such law ; for every law that 
binds die subjects of this realm ought either to be the 
common law and usage of the realm,' or an act of par- 
liament. What had been said by the king's counsel re- 
specting the law of parliament, he considered as only 
intended to frighten the judges: but that he did not re- 
gard ; for though he had all respect and deference for 
tliat honourable body, yet he sat there to administer 
M 5 



264 LORD-CHIEF-JUSTICE HOLT. 

justice according to the laws of the land, and accord- 
kg to his oath ; and he should- regard nothing but 
the discharge of his duty. — In consequence of this 
spirited resolution, he was afterwards summoned to 
give his reasons for this judgement before a committee 
of the house of peers; but he disdained to comply with 
such extrajudicial proceedings, and maintained the in- 
ndependance of the bench. Some of the lords were sa 
much irritated at his manly firmness, that they threat- 
ened to send him to the Tower : but the more dispas- 
sionate and sensible part of the house saw the danger 
ef proceeding to such extremities ; and as they were 
determined not to recognise lord Banbury's title, the 
business drop>ped both with regard to his lordship and 
judge Holt. 

When lord-chancellor Somers resigned the great seal 
in 1700, king William pressed lord^chief-justice Holt 
to accept it : but his lordship, who had no ambition to 
quit his present honourable station^ replied, " that he 
never had had but 6ne chancery suit in his life, which 
he lost ; and consequently could not think himself quali- 
iied for so great a trust.'' 

In the second year of queen Anne'^s reign a very im- 
portant cause, which arose from an election at Ayles- 
bury, was agitated by the jttdges, relative to the right 
of the returning-officers to refuse a legal vote in thev 
election of members for parliament. This, after being 
decided at the assizes in favour of the person who had' 
been rejected, was removed into the court of king's- 
bench; and attracted much notice, from being the 
iirst question of the kind tha^ had been tried there;. 
Three of the judges were of opinion that no injury that 
required legal redress was done to the plaintiff, and- 
were for reversing the sentence for damages : but Holt, 
with a penetration which did him honour, and a love 
of liberty that ought to endear him- to the latest poste- 
rity, maintained "that if the plaintiff had* a right, he 



I.ORD^CHIEF- JUSTICE HOLT.. 265^ 

must of necessity have a means to vindicate and sup- 
port it, and a- remedy if he is injured in the exercise or 
enjoyment of it ; and it was a vain thing to imagine a^ 
riglit without a remedy, for want of right and want of 
remedy were reciprocal." The house of eonmions- 
took up this matter very seriously : for, if a question 
of thisjiature should be admitted to be cognisable by 
a court of law,, it might of course be carried by ap- 
pend before the house of lords ;. and thus a point which 
affected in a very high degree one of their most essen- 
tial privileges and interests (that of determining on all 
questions relative to the elections of their own mem- 
bers) would be subjected to the decision of another 
branch of the legislature. The peers, on the other 
hand, strenuously insisted on the doctrine -supported by 
lord-chief-justice Holt ; arguing that, if a person is 
deprived of the exercise of his constitutional right- 
by the refusal of the sheriif or odier returning offi- 
cer to admit him to vote at an election, it is but 
just that he should be able to procure compensation 
in a court of law, as in every other case of injury sus- 
tained. The nation in general (as might be expected) 
eagerly adopted this sentiment ; and the extraordinary^ 
and unparalleled spectacle was exhibitedv of a contest 
between the two houses of parliament, in v/hicli the 
lords defended the popular side of the question, in 
opposition to the commons. Tne two houses at last 
became warm in the dispute; and the queen saw not 
other means to allay the ferment, than by dissolving. 
tlie parliament. 

On every occasion, Holt zealously defendv^d the con- 
stitutional liberties of the people ;, and shevv\ed the nt-- 
most aversion to the exercise of mihtary power,, under" 
pretence of assisting the civil.. A riot, happening in 
Holbom, on account of young persons of bc^th sexes 
being trepanned and confined in a certain house tilh 
tliey could be shipped off to the iimeiiciv.i ^iaiitatiorxs,, 



I 



266 LORrr-CHIEF-JTTSTICE HOLT* 

a party of the guards were commanded to march to - 
the spot; but an officer was first dispatched to the lord- 
chief-justice, requesting him to send some of his people 
in order to give this affair abetter appearance. " Sup- 
pose/' said the judge to the officer, " the populace will 
not disperse, what are you to do then?" " Sir," an- 
swered he, " we have orders to fire on them." " Have 
you so ?" replied his lordship ;, '< then take notice of 
what I say : if one man is killed, and you are tried be- 
fore me,^ I will take care that you and every soldier of 
your party shall be hanged." Having dismissed the 
officer with a reprimand for his employers, he ordered 
his tipstaves with a few constables to attend him -^ and> 
proceeding to the scene of tumult, expostulated with 
the mob, assured them that justice should be done, a^d 
pacified them to such a degree that they quietly di- 
spersed. 

This Upright judge, having filled his exalted office 
fbr^ a period of twenty-6ne years with the highest 
credit to hiniself and utility to the public, was carried 
off by a lingering illness in the sixty-eighth year of his 
age. His 5ody was interred in the church of Redgrave, 
in the county of Suffolk ;' where a sumptuous monu- 
ment was erected to his memory. By his lady, a daugh- 
ter of sir John Cropley, he left no issue. 

A judicious biographer has thus summed up the cha- 
racter of lord-chief-justice Holt; which, from an impar- 
tial review of his life, appears to be perfectly j ust. *• He 
was one of the ablest and most upright judg-es that ever 
presided in a court cf justice. He was a perfect mas- 
ter of the common law, and applied himself with great 
a.vsidaity to the functions of his important office. Pos- 
sessed of uncommon clearness of understanding, and 
great solidity of judgment, such were the integrity and 
firmness of his mind, that he could never be brought to 
swerve in the least from what. he esteemed law and jus- 
tice. He was remarkably strenuous ia nobly asserting, 



JL0RD-CHIEF-JU3TICE HOLT. 267 

and as rigorously supporting, the rights and liberties of 
the subject, to which he paid the greatest reg.ard ; and 
would not even suffer a reflection tending to depreciate 
them, to pass uncensured, or without a severe repri^ 
mand.'* 

As a legal writer he was less distinguished. The 
duties of his station left him but little leisure ; yet he 
is not unknown to students by his works. In 1708 he 
published sir John Iveyling's Reports, with some an- 
notations of his own, and three modern cases which had 
attracted great notoriety. 

Some juvenile frolics are generally ascribed to Holt>- 
but with no great authenticity : yet, as they convey the 
only existing records of his private character, one of 
this kmd shall be here, inserted ; which, whether true or 
false, can reflect but little disgrace upon his me» 
jnory. 

Being once out on a party of pleasure with some 
young men, and their money being all spent, it was 
agreed to separate, and try their fortunes singly. Holt 
put up at the first inn that came In his way, with a- bold 
face ; and seeing the only daughter of the family, who 
was then about thirteen years old, shivering under a fit 
of the ague, he immediately conceived an idea how he 
might turn this circumstance to his advantage. On in- 
terrogating the mother, he discovered that the girl had 
long laboured under this complaint, and that the art 
of medicine had been tried in vain. On this he shook 
his head ; and bade her take courage, for she should 
never have another fit. He then wrote an unintelli- 
gible scrawl in court-hand on a piece of parchment, 
and ordered it to be bound round the daughter's wrist. 
It happened that the charm had the desired effect ; and 
when Holt, without a penny in his pocket, at the end 
of the week called for his bill, he found the gratitude 
of the family for his skill and service precluded them 
from making any demand. He was even considered 



265 BISHOP BIfRITET. 

as a benefactor of the first importance, and they part- 
ed wtth mutual good-will. 

In the course of many years, when raised to be a 
judge, he went the circuit in the same county ; and- 
among other crimin?Js at the assizes, was an old wo» 
man accused of witchcraft.. She w^as indicted for ha- 
ving' a spell by which she could cure such cattle as were 
sick, or destroy such as w^ere well ; and this magical 
charm, being seized upon her, was ready to be pro- 
duced in court. Holt ordered it to be shown him ; and^ 
having divested it of numerous coverings, found it to* 
consist of the very piece of parchment which he had 
used in the above case to cure the girl of an ague»^ 
He immediately recollected the incident ; and, with a- 
magnanimity which exalted his character, confessed the 
trick which he had' played. The jury, of course, ac- 
quitted the prisoner ; and judge Holt's landlady was* 
the last person that was tried, in those parts on the ab»- 
surd charge of witchcraft.. 



GILBERT BURNET^ 

BISHOP OF SALISBURY. 

Born 1643— Died 1715. 

From IBth Charles /., to 2d George I. 

THERE are some men v/ho appear great only while 
the splendour of rank^ or the bustle r)f station, dazzles- 
tlie eyes of the spectators f others-become- magnified 
as they recede from the public viewj^ and are seen like 
stars in a. distant sky. Of this latter description is bi- 
shop Burnet : a man too much im.plicated in the various- 
political convulsions which -agitated his time, to escape 
censure ; but Avhose memory is generally allowed to be 
clear from any considerable stain. 



BISHOP BURNET. 269 

Gilbert Buniet was descended from an ancfent fa- 
mily in Aberdeenshire. His father was a lawyer; and 
as a reward for his constant attachment to the royal 
party, at the Restoration was appointed one of the lords 
of session. His mother was sister to sir Alexander 
Johnston, an'd an enthusiastical Calvlnist. 

During the Usurpation, Mr. Burnet, having refused to 
acknowledge CromwelPs authority, had no other em- 
ployment than the instruction of his ovrn son, which 
he attended to with the most p:it!ent industry ; and at 
ten years of age sent him to the university of Aber^ 
deen, whither be also removed himself to assist in su* 
perintending his education. This was so strictly pur- 
sued, that the youth was obliged to rise at four in the 
morning : a practice which became habitual to him ^ 
and gave him more time for study, and a larger en- 
joyment of life, than fall to the share of most men. 
Whatever is stolen from sleep is certainly added to ex- 
istence"; and though late hours are justly deemed inju-, 
rious to healtli, early rising is at once conducive to 
pleasure and to profit. 

Burnet's original destination was the church : yet he 
was so much attached to the study of civil and feudal 
law, that nothing could divert his attention from it; 
and he often declared that he had deduced from this 
s-ource juster prii-iciples of civil society and government, 
than many of his profession would aliov/ him to pos- 
sess. 

■ Having satisfied his mind on those topics, he applied 
\^ith equal ardour to divinity : and as a relaxation, per- 
used a prodigious number of books on subjects of ge- 
neral knowledge ; so that he was master of a vast fund- 
of learning before he reached his eighteenth year. 
Being admitted a probationer preacher, Jie refused a 
benefice which was offered him ; and havinp- lost his 
father in 1663, he visited Oxford and Cambridge, 
where he staid- about six months. 



270 BISHOP^BURNET. 

Next year he made a tour to Holland and France ; 
and perfected himself in Hebrew, by the assistance of 
a rabbi at Amsterdam. Here likewise he became ac- 
quainted with the most distinguished divines of the va- 
rious sects which toleration had united in friendly inter- 
course ; and having such a pattern before his eyes, he 
became fixed in a strong principle of universal charity, 
and an invincible abhorrence of all intolerance in reli- 
gion. ' ^ ' 

On his return to Scotland, he was admitted into holy 
orders, and presented to the living of Saltoun. His 
abilities would not suffer him to be inactive or useless. 
He mediated between the episcopalians and the presby- 
terians with considerable effect, but rendered himself 
obnoxious to the z^ealots of both parties. Such is too 
frequently the only reward of candour and liberality of 
sentiment. 

Being promoted to the divinity chair of Glasgow, he 
filled that station upwards of four years, and made 
himself very acceptable to the duchess of Hamilton ; 
which was the basis of his future promotion. The earl 
of Lauderdale invited him to London ; where he had 
the choice of four Scottish bishoprics offered him, but 
he declined them all. On his return to Glasgow, he 
married lady Margaret Kennedy, daughter of the earl 
of Cassiiis ; and shewed the most generous disinterested- 
ness by the manner in which he disposed of her fonune. 

His merit and abilities h^d for some time pointed 
him out as a proper person to wear the mitre, but he 
still declined promotion in Scotland. However, on the 
king's own nomination, he was made chaplain in ordi- 
nary ; but on giving some disgust to the court, his 
name w^as soon after erased from the list. 

Finding his enemies beginning to prevail against 

him, he relinquished his frofessor^s chair at Glasgow, 

and resolved to settle in London. His reputation as a 

sacred WTiter and divine was so great, that notwith- 

3 



BISHOP BURNET. 2?! 

tanding the opposition of the court he was appointed 
preacher at the Rolls chapel, and soon after chosen lee-* 
l^irer of St. Clement's. 

His fame being fully established, and his popularity 
increasing, in 1639 he published the first volume of his 
History of 'the Reformation; for which he obtained the 
thanks of parliament. About this time he was acci- 
dentally introduced to the acquaintance of the dissolute 
earl of Rochester ; and had such a happy influence on 
his nlind, tliat the earl in consequence became a sincere 
penitent, and a convert to Christianity. 

Burnet, though odious to the court, was highly re- 
spected by the people, and for some time this was his 
powerful defence ; but having given fresh provocation 
by his amiable solicitude for lord William Russel, he 
retired to France, where the most flattering distinctions 
were paid him. On his return to London however^ 
resuming his clerical functions, he inveighed widi so 
much asperity against popery, that he was silenced by 
royal authority. 

On the accession of James the Second he left the 
kii>gdom, and travelled into Italy. Pope Innocent the 
Second voluntarily offered him a; private audience, that 
the ceremony of kissing the slipper might be dispensed 
with ; but Burnet declined this polite proposal, in the 
most civil manner. He however visited some of the 
cardinals, and made no reserve of his sentiments^ 
This freedom could not long be tolerated, and he re« 
ceived an intimation that it would be prudent to with- 
draw. However commendable it is to be zealous for 
the truth, there can be no merit in that intemperate ar- 
dour w^hich overlooks the decorums of time and placl?. 
To dispute, is not to convince ; and Burnet, on this 
occasion, seems to have forgotten what was due to the 
prejudices or institutions of a country in which he had 
no intei-est, and whose government he was bound to 
respect so long as he remained under it? protection. 



272 BISFIOP BURNET. 

After travelling through Italy and Switzerland, he 
arrived at Utrecht, with a design of fixing his residence 
in the United Provinces. The prince and princess of 
Orange, to whom he had been recommended by their 
party in England, hearing of his arrival^ gave him a 
' very pressing invitation to the Hague, which he ac- 
cepted; and he was soon admitted into the most inti- 
mate confidence of those illustrious personages. He ad- 
vised them to equip such a fleet as would be sufficient 
to support their designs, and encourage their friends at 
once to declare in their favour. Meanwhile he facili-, 
tated their reception by publishing an account of his 
travels : in which he represented popery and tyranny 
as inseparable, with a view to alienate the affections of 
the people from James ; and by some keen reflections 
en die conduct of government, actively circulated in 
loose sheets, gave such offence to the king, that he 
earnestly desired Burnet might be forbid the court of 
the prince and princess of Orange. This was complied 
with in appearance, not in reality : and soon afterwards^ 
paying his addresses to miss vScot, a Dutch lady of for- 
tune, birth, and accomplishments, he obtained an act 
of naturalization in that country ; which incensed James 
so violently, that the court proceeded against him in 
a charge of high-treason, and a sentence of outlawry 
was passed upon him. 

Burnet however, now secure under the protection of 
the States General (to which he had transferred his al- 
legiance), rather irritated than soothed his enemies ; and 
on his being imperiously demanded by James, it was 
urged that he had become a subject of the United 
States, and that if he had committed any crime he 
was amenable only to their courts. 

This put an end to all further application ; and Bur- 
ner, in forwarding the views of the prince of Orange, 
must have now considered himself not only as em- 
ployed in securing the liberties of his country, but ia 



BISHO? BURNET. _ 273 

redressing his own private wrongs. It is always dan- 
gerous and impolitic to injure or neglect a man of ge- 
nius and talents ; for his resentment is commonly as 
keen, as his gratitude for favours is warm.. 

The deliverer of tliis country, the illustrious prince 
of Orange, having made all due preparations for his 
expedition, was attended by Burnet in the character of 
chaplain ; who by his pulpit eloquence, and the papers 
which he drew up as an exposition of the prince's sen- 
timents and intentions, was eminently instrumental in 
rendering the Revolution as bloodless as it was glo* 
rious. 

Such signal services did not long pass without re- 
ward. William had not been many days on the throne, 
before Dr. Burnet was promoted to the see of Sali^s- 
bury. In parliament he distinguished himself by de- 
claring for lenient measures towards such of the clergy 
as refused to take the oaths to William and Mary^ and 
exerted his best abilities in promoting a legal toleration 
of the dissenters. So far his conduct exposed him to no 
obloquy ; but having incautiously admitted some words 
into his first pastoral letter, in which he seemed to 
ground the title of William on the right of conquest,-— 
both houses of parliament, to shew their detestation of 
such a doctrine, ordered the publication to be burnt 
by the hands of the common hangman. 

Burnet, however, did not suffer politics to absorb all 
his attention. Having had the happiness to see the 
government settled on the firm foundoition of rational 
liberty, ^ he constantly secluded himself from its con- 
cerns as soon as the business of parliament was over: 
and, retiring to his diocese, by the most indefatigable 
zeal discharged the duties of his function ; visiting, 
confirming, ordaining, and superintending, with a vigi- 
lance and assiduity very uncommon, and truly meri* 
torious. 

He was a declared enemy to pluralities ; except 



274 BISHOP BURNET. ^ 

when the value of the livings was small, and tlicir 
contiguity convenient. With regard to residejice, he 
was peremptory and strict ; and this he enforced by 
his own example as much as by episcopal autliority : for 
even when the king expressed a desire that during his 
absence abroad the bishop would attend and advise her> 
majesty on occasion, this conscientious prelate would 
not accept of lodgings at Whitehall, but hired a house, 
at Windsor, that he might still be within the limits of 
his diocese, and yet be able to attend at court when re-: 
quired. 

Though 'his integrity and duty sometimes carried 
him beyond the bounds of courtly politeness, and the- 
king felt the blunt freedom of his speech, yet he was 
held in the highest estimation during the W'hole of that 
reign ; and as the strongest proof of the exalted opi- 
nion which his majesty entertained of him, when it be- 
came necessary to settle the household of the young 
duke of Gloucester, the next but one in succession to 
the throne. Dr. Burnet was earnestly solicited to undei> 
take the o£Bce of his preceptor ; and even witli this 
honourable appointment he very reluctantly complied, 
lest it should withdraw him from the care of his dio- 
cese. Indeed, when he could excuse himself no longer, 
he pressed to resign his bishopric ; but on the refusal of 
this request, he stipulated that the duke should reside 
at Windsor during summer, and that he himself 
should be allow^ed ten v/eeks annually to discharge his 
pastoral oiBce. 

Under the tuition of such an able and judicious mas- 
ter, the young prince made a rapid progress ; but his 
premature death rendered all the labours of Burnet 
ineffectual, and clouded the prospects of the nation. 

In the year 16^9 the bishop published his famous 
Exposition of the thirty-nine Articles of the Church of 
England, a work which exposed him to many public 
and private attacks ; but the numerous editions through 



BISHOP BURNET. 275 

which it has passed, shew the sense generally enter- 
tained of its merits. 

Having lost his second wife by the small-pox, li^ 
married a widow lady of great knowledge, piety, and 
virtue ; and in whpm his children found a valuable 
substitute- for the natural parent they had been de- 
prived of. ^ 

During the reign of queen Anne, he was less a fa- 
vourite at court; but her majesty ever treated him with 
due respect, and encouraged him to speak his mind 
freely on national afEiirs. He shewed himself on all 
occasions worthy of this confidence ; and strenuously 
exerted himself in seating the present illustrious family 
on the throne, — an event which he had the happiness to 
see accomplished before, he was called from the stage 
of life. 

After various ineitectual endeavours to better the 
situation of the clergy, he had the satisfaction at last to 
find his project for augmenting small livings carried 
into execution. The operation of queen Anne's bounty 
(as it is called) has certainly relieved much clerical 
^distress ; yet the ministers of religion have still a for- 
lorn prospect, when a governor of this charity informs 
them that it will be three hundred years before every 
living in England and Wales is raised to the value of a 
hundred pounds per annum. That government is bound 
to adopt some more efficacious measure in favour of 
the poorer clergy, will scarcely be disputed by any one 
who allows the utility and influence of this order of 
men ; or who thinks that religion is the balm of life, 
and the passport to a happy immortality. 

Bishop Burnet, towards the close of life, became in 
some measure abstracted from that world which he was 
about to leave. When he had attained his seventy- 
second year, he was attacked with a cold which, dege- 
nerating to a pleuritic fever, bailed all the aids of me- 
dicine, and speedily brought him to the grave. His 



276 BISHOP BURNET. 

senses were clear to the last ; and exercises of devotioa 
and affectionate advice to his family occupied his chief 
concern and attention. To him death appeared strip- 
ped of every terror : he hailed Its approaches \\4thjoy. 
He was buried in the church of St. James, Clerken- 
<well ; where a handsome monument was erected to his 
memory. 

The History of his own Times (a work of various 
knowledge, but not exempt from symptoms of party- 
virulence), was published after his decease, according to 
liis express directions, without alteration or abridg- 
ment ; and will still be read with pleasure as a picture 
of a very interesting epoch in our annals. As a theo- 
logist and a controversial writer, he has likewise left 
many proofs of acuteness and diligence, of profound 
learning and extensive observation* 

From his celebrated character by the illustrious mar- 
quis of Halifax, a few extracts shall be here subjoined. 
It was written by a contemporary ; and has been al- 
lowed, by impartial judges, to be appropriate and 
fair. - 

" Dr. Burnet, like all men who are above the ordi- 
nary level, is seldom spoken of in a medium ;4ie mu^t 
either be railed at or admired. He has a swiftness of 
imagination that no other man comps up to. His first 
'thoughts . may sometimes require more digestion : not , 
from a defect in his judgment ; but from the abundarwae ^ 
of his fancy, which furnishes matter too fast for him. 
His friends love him too v>/ell to heed small faults ; ov, 
if they do, think that his greater talents give him a pri- 
vilege of straying from the strict rules of caution, and 
-exempt him from the ordinary rules of censure. He 
is not quicker in discerning other men's faults, than. he 
is in forgiving them; so ready, or rather glad, to ac 
-knowledge his own, that from blemishes they became 
.ornaments. All the repeated provocations of his inde- 
cent adversaries, have had no other effect than the set- 



WILLIAM PENN. 277 

iing his good-nature in so much better a light, shice his 
anger never yet weui lurLher than to pity them. That 
heat which in most other men raises sharpness and 
, satire, in him glows into warmth for his friends, and 
compassion for those in want and misery. 

** He makes many enemies, by setting an ill-natured 
example of living which they are not inclined to fol* 
low. His indiiference for preferment; his contempt, 
not only of splendour, but of all unnecessary plenty ; 
his degrading himself into the lowest and most pain- 
ful duties of his calling ; are such unprelatical quali- 
ties, that, let him be never so orthodox in other things, 
in these he must be a dissenter. Virtues of such a 
stamp are so many heresies, in the opinion of those di- 
vines who have softened the primitive injunctions so as 
to make them suit better with the present frailty of 
mankind. No wonder then if they are angry, since 
it is in their own defence ^ or that, from a principle of 
self-preservation, they should endeavour to suppress a 
man whose parts are a shame, and whose life is a scan- 
<kl, to them-" 



WILLIAM PENN, 

FOUNDER OF PENNSYLVANIA, 

Born 16M— Died 17 18. 

From 19//j Charles Ly to Ath George L 

TO conhne all inerit to a particular religieus per- 
suasion, is certainly the mark of a little mind ; of a 
mind neither illumined by reason, nor influenced by 
Christianity. The bigot looks at principles alone, and 
condemns without mercy those which do not exactly 
agree with his own. The m.an of virtue and under- 
standing makes a candid allowance for the prejudices 



278 WILLIAM PENN. 






of education, or the fallibility of human judgment ; 
and in' right practices, from whatever source they spring, 
sees much to love and to admire. The former, in his 
narrow zeal, disregards good actions, the only incontest- 
able proof of g\3od principles ; the latter, without suf- 
fering any improper bias to mislead him, judges of the 
tree according to its fruit. 

Had Penn lived in the age of Solon or of Lycurgus, 
his name would have floated down the stream of time 
with theirs. As a legislator, it is impossible to deny 
him the tribute of unmixed applause : as a religionist, 
he rigidly adhered to the dictates of conscience, regard- 
less of fortune or of fame ; and therefore is entitled to 
respect and veneration from such even as may not ap- 
prove his particular tenets. 

This extraordinary man, one of the original bul- 
warks of the soriety called quakers, and the founder 
and legislator of Pennsylvania, was the son of admiral 
sir William Penn, the fortunate conqueror of Jamaica. 
He was born in London ; and was educated partly un- 
der a domestic tutor, and partly at a school at Chig- 
well in Essex. He appears to have had early and deep 
impressions of religion on his mind ; and to have expe- 
rienced, or fancied, divine communications, between 
the twelfth and fifteenth year of his age. About this' 
period, tQO, it seems probable that he had been a hearer 
of one Thomas Loe, a quaker, who afterwards fixed 
him in the principles of that sect; and that the impres- 
sion which he then received was never afterwards ef- 
faced from his heart. The ductile mind of youth, like 
the warm wax, is susceptible of any form; and first 
principles and prepossessions are well known to be with 
d*ifficult)' eradicated. 

This was strongly exemplified in Penn, who in 1660 
was admitted a gentleman commoner of Christ-church 
Oxford ; but soon withdrawing from tlie national wor- 
ship, and performing religious exercises in private with 



WILLIAM PENN. -v 279 

*ome other students of a serious disposition, he was first 
iar)ed for nonconformity (though then but sixteen years" 
^f ^g^)> and afterwards expelled. His father was so 
much incensed at this conduct, which he considered as 
ia bar to his future preferment, that when expostulation 
proved ineffectual to alter his sentiments, he turned him 
out of doors. Relenting however on mature reflection, 
he tried the effects of a journey to the continent ; in 
hopes that the pecuhar religious notions of the young 
man would yield to the attractions of company, and a 
more enlarged knowledge of tlie world. After a con- 
siderable stay in France, yoang Penn returned an ac 
complished gentleman ; and was received with joy by 
his f-ither, whose affection for him appears to have been 
ardent and sincere. It is said, ihat during his residence 
in Paris, beirg assaulted one evening in the streets by 
a person witli a drawn sword, he was so well skilled in ~ 
fencing that he disarmed his antagonist- This harba- 
rous practice, however, he sirongly reprobates in his 
\^Titings ; and, to mark Its absurdity, opposes the consl- 
deration of a- trifling insult, against the probable los3 
oF life and the crime of murder. 

In the twenty-second year of his age, his father com- 
mitted to his superintendance a considerable estate in 
Ireland. Here he accidentally found tlie same Thomas 
Loe, whose preaching had made such an early and last- 
ing impression on his tender mind : and joining the so- 
ciety of quakers, who were then under persecution, he 
was* committed to prison with some others, but soon 
relea,sed by the interposition of his father ; v^^ho or- 
dered him back to England, and again attempted to 
reclaim him, but in vain. He felt the strongest prin. 
ciples of duty to a fond parent ; but his opinions were 
now so rooted, that he was absolutely inflexible to all 
remonstrances. In consequence, he was again cast on 
the wide world ; and taking up the vocation of a pub- 
Ik: preacher among the quakers, he suffered various per- 



"280 WILLIAM PENN. 

secutions with a wonderful firmness and patience. The 
cause for which he suffered became endeared to him by 
every trial that he underwent; and thus opposition has 
sometimes made as many martyrs as conscience. 

The admiral again attempted to come to an agree- 
ment with his son. He requested only that he would 
consent (in oppQiBtion to the strict maxim of the 
quakers, which they still rigidly practise) to take off 
his hat in presence of the king and the duke of York. 
Even this external mark of respect, as it violated one 
of the p-rinciples which he had adopted, was refused, as 
inconsistent with his duty. His father at last, findmg 
his perseverance to be the effect of pure though muta- 
ken principle, received him again into his family with- 
out any concessions ; and, dying soon after, left hiia 
a plentiful fortune. Notwithstanding the opposition 
which he had given to his son's religious conduct, with 
his dyin^ breath he adjured him to do nothing con, 
trary to' his conscience: "So will you keep peace 
within," added he, " which will be a comfort m the day 
of trouble." ' ' 

After enduring another imprisonment .or attending a 
ruaker meetine, he visited Holland and Germany ; and 
met with a ver"v flattering reception from the princess- 
Elizabeth of Bohemia, daughter of James the First. 
His writings, his labours, and his sufferings, for some 
years, were various ; but we now come to an epoch m 
his life which changed the complexion of his fortune, 
-and -ave a full display to his wisdom and his virtues. 

Charles the Second in 1681, as a compensation for 
services and sums due to his deceased father, conferred 
by patent on Mr. Penn and his heirs the provmce of 
Pennsylvania, so called from his own name. The pro- 
prietor immediately drew up an impartial account ot 
ihe climate and produce, and proposed very easy terms 
to settlers. Considering the royal grant, however, a . 
conferring a title but not a right, he wrote m the most 



WILLIAM PENN. 281 

affectionate terms to the Indians, explaining his peace- 
able intentions, and expressing his wish to hold the 
lands not only by the king's patent, but also by their 
consent and love. Commissioners were accordingly 
named to carry his just and benevolent views into exe^ 
cution; while the natives, who were unaccustomed to 
be treated like men, listened \vith pleasure to the^ pro- 
posals made them, conceived a high opinion of him, 
and entered into an amicable treaty which was never 
violated. 

The legal restraints under which some sects laboured 
in England at this period, and the persecution of others, 
served to people the new colony. A city to be named 
Philadelphia was laid out according to a judicious and 
regular plan, and rapidly increased. Penn himself 
drew up the fundamental constitution of his province, 
in twenty-four articles ; and in the following year, the 
scheme of its government. Had he never WTitten any 
thing else, tliis alone would have been sufficient to ren- 
der his fame immortal. In his regulations he not only 
displayed the soundest wisdom, but also the most 
amiable moderation and the warmest philanthropy. 
Though persecuted for his own religion, he shews his 
detestation of intolerance, not only from its moral im- 
propriety, but from his inherent love of justice. All 
persons who acknowledged a supreme Governor of the 
universe, and who held themselves obliged in con* 
science to live peaceably and justly in civil society, were 
to be neither molested nor prejudiced for their religions 
opinions. The same amiable disposition was displayed 
in settling the civil government, and establishing courts 
of justice. To prevent expensive law-suits, he ordered 
three peace^mahrs to be chosen by every county-court, t© 
serve as common arbitrators. In short, during the two 
years of his residence in his province, he settled its adnii- 
-% latistration on the firmest basis of justice; he ingratiated 

N 2 



ti82 \VILLIAM PENN. 

himself with the Indians in an extraordinary degree ; 
and taught his people, by example as well as precept, 
the advantage of diligence and economy, and the 
happiness of sobriety and order. He left Pennsylva- 
nia in 1684^, with the affection of the settlers and the 
veneration of the Indians.; and returned to England 
with his wife and family. 

On the accession of James the Second he was treated 
with much distinction at court ; and therefore lay un- 
der the imputation of an attachment to popery, from. 
which he fully exonerated himself: but on the Revolu- 
tion he was arrested on suspicion of corresponding 
with James, examined before the council, and obliged 
to give security for his future appearance. He repeat- 
edly underwent this vexation from false charges, which 
induced him at last to abscond ; but after some time, 
being permitted to appear before the king and council, 
he vindicated his innocence with such spirit and effect, 
that his calumniators shrunk from their accusations. 
After travelling about the country much as a public 
preacher, in 1699 he revisited Pennsylvania with his 
wife and family, where he intended to spend the re- 
mainder of his days; but in 1701 he was recalled to 
defend his proprietary right, which had been attacked 
in his absence. However, he supported his legal 
claims ; and was highly respected by queen Anne, 
whose court he often visited. Here his persecution and 
his active labours ceased together. Age advancing 
w^ith its accompanying infirmities, he quitted the vici- 
nity of London, and settled at Ruscombe in Berkshire ; 
where he gradually declined, and at length quitted this 
sublunary scene in the seventy-fourth year of his age. 

As a writer he evinced great good sense, excepj: 
wdiere it v/as obscured by the peculiarity of his reli- 
gious creed. As a mild and beneficent man, of the 
purest virtue, integrity, and conscience, he is an honour 



MR. AbDISON. 285 

10 any religious society ; and as a legislator, he is an 
honour to the country that produced him. 

Though possessed of an ample fortime, it was ve* 
duced by his charity to those of his own sect, by tbe^ 
impositions which he suffered from ill-disposed persons* 
and the disinterestedness which he shewed in raising a 
revenue from his province. When offered an impost 
by the colonists on certain goods, he returned thanks 
for this mark of affection, but declined its acceptance. 
He seemed to consider the settlers as his children, and 
thought it unbecoming a father to take from them any 
portion of their property. 

At times his affairs were so deranged, that he was 
afraid of his creditors. A pleasant anecdote is recorded 
on an occiision of this nature. He^'had contrived an 
aperture at his house in Norfolk-street, by which he 
could see any one at his door without being seen. A 
creditor having sent in his name, waited a long-time 
for admission. " Will not thy master see me ?" said 
he, at last, to the servant. <« Friend," replied the ser- 
vant, " he kas seen thee, but does not like thee." 



rOSEPH ADDISON, 

JBorn 1672— Died 1719. 

From 23 J Chart&s JL, to 5th George /, 

TO select the brightest luminaries from the literary 
constellation which has gilded the British horizon, is 
a diiHcult and an invidious task. The limits of the 
present work admit only a few 5 and those, to come 
witliin its plan, must possess pre-em.inence of genius, or 
have been signally favoured by fortune. Many have 
gained the height of renown in the republic of letters ; 
but scanty is the number of those who, hke Addison, 



284 MR. ADDISONi; 

have risen principally by literature, to an exalted pbst 
In the state. His life therefore, independantly of its 
own excellence, will convey many a moral lesson. It 
is calculated to inspire hope and emulation, by the 
proof that eminent desert will frequently be crowned 
with reward ; it is also calculated to repress the vain 
ambition of shining in every sphere, when it is evident 
that Addison neither increased his fame nor his happi- 
ness by the elevated public rank wliich he acquired. 

This inimitable waiter was son to the dean of Lich- 
field; and first saw the light at Milston, near Ambres- 
bury in Wiltshire, of which place his father was rector. 
When he came into the world, his stay in it w^as likely 
to be so very short, that he was instantly bapti^^ed ; in- 
deed, some say that he was laid out for dead as soon as 
born. 

The first rudiments of education he received under a 
clergyman at the place of his nativity. He was then 
successively removed to Salisbury, Lichfield, and the 
Charter-house schools. At the last excellent seminary 
of classical learning*, he pursued his juvenile studies with 
extraordinary success ; and here he contracted an inti- 
macy Avith sir Richard Steele, which the similarity of 
taste and pursuits rendered almost as durable as their 
lives. 

Addison w-as scarcely fifteen years of age, when he 
uas sent to queen's college, Oxford. Here his appli- 
cation to classical learning continued without intermis- 
sion. He had already acquired an elegant Latin style : 
and some of his vei'ses in that language falling into the 
hands of Dr. Lancaster of Magdalen college, he enter- 
tained such a high opinion of the writer's genius, thaj: 
he procured Addison admission into his own college, 
where the accomplished youth attained tlie degrees of 
bachelor and master of arts ; and he Is still considered 
as one of the most illustrious characters which that re* 
speciable society has sent forth. 



MR. ADDISON. 285 

His reputation for Latin poetry, which however is 
' rather calculated to shew the classical scholar than the 
man of genius, soon spread over the university ; and 
many elegant specimens of his performances in this 
way are still extant in the Musarum j^nglicanarum Aiia^ 
led a. 

Notwithstanding the acknowledge purity of his Eng- 
lish style, he is said to have been twenty-two years of 
age before he made himself conspicuous by any compo- 
sition in his native tongue. No sooner, however, had 
he attempted English poetry, than his reputation was 
considerably increased, as more persons were thus quali- 
iied to estimate his merits. JHe attracted the notice of 
Dryden, and the friendship of Sacheverel, by his writ- 
ings; but what led to more important consequences, 
was his poem on one of king Williams's campaigns, ad- 
dressed to tlie lord-keeper Somers. This great states- 
man received the young writer's advances w^ith great 
politeness, and took him under his immediate and en- 
tire protection. Addison had intimated that the patro- 
nage of Somers would be acceptable, and it was his 
^ood-fortune to obtain it. By his favour, and that of 
Mr. Montague chancellor of the exchequer, who both 
discerned his fine genius, and wished to give it the last 
polish, he received an annual pension of three hundred 
pounds ; by which he was enabled to make the fashion- 
able tour through tlie diiferent countries of Europe. 

Addison had been pressingly solicited by his college 
friends to enter into holy orders ; but his political pa- 
trons diverted him from tliis intention, and he set out 
on his travels in 1699. After staying a year at Blois 
to make himself master of the French language, he 
proceeded to Italy ; which he travelled through, and 
afterwards described with the eye and the fancy of a 
poet. His poetical epistle to Montague lord Halifax 
from that country, is one of the most finished produc- 
tions of his genius, and its beauties have occasioned it 
7 



286 MR. ApDisoic. 

to be translated into several languages. While it 
breathes the spirit of independant gratitude, it evinces 
his classical genius and lovt? of liberty, and is equally 
honourable to the poet and his patron. 

Mr. Addison returned in 1703 ; and his political 
friends being either removed or in disgrace, his pension 
was withheld, and liis prospects for a time seemed to 
be clouded. Fortune, however, took him up at this 
ci4sis ; and his abilities secured the advantage which 
she gave him. 

The victory at Blenheim had justly spread triumph 
and confidence over the nation, but it had not yet been 
celebrated by a poet worthy of such a lofty theme. 
Lord Godciphin lamented this to lord Halifax ; and 
expressed a wish that the latter, who was a poet him- 
self, would recommend some genius qualified for doing 
justice to the subject. Halifax immediately recollected 
his friend Addison ; commended his merit and inge- 
nuity; and gave lord Godolphin so effectually the im» 
pression which he intended, that the young poet was 
solicited to engage in this task ; and executed it per- 
fectly to the satisfaction of his noble employer, who in 
return appointed him commissioner of appeals. 

Next year his Travels wei-e published, and dedicated 
to lord Som.ers. At first they met with an indifferent 
reception: the classical allusions and quotations were 
too frequent for common readers ; but real judges in- 
stantly recognised their merit, and in, a short time it 
would have appeared unfashionable not to admire them. 

About the same time Mr, Addison attended lord 
Halifax to Hanover ; and in 1706 was made under-se^ 
cretary of state, in which capacity he officiated both 
under sir Charles Hedges and his successor the earl of 
Sunderland. 

The lovers of the opera now importuned Addison 
to try whether sense and so.und, under his auspices, 
might not be rendered com.patible. To oblige them. 



MR. ADDISp.V. 287 

he composed his. inimitable Rosamond, which was dedi- 
cated to the duchess of M.irlboron'gh : but 5a strongly- 
were the public prejudiced in favour of the Italian 
operas, that the genius of Addison, and the pure taste 
of a few distinguished judges, could not banish the ab-. 
surdity of -listening to a language V/hich even at this^ 
day not one in twenty understands ; and to a species of 
music which still fewer, though taught by habit to 
comr^iend it, can really feel. 

When the marquis of Wharton was appointed lord- 
lieutenant of Ireland in 1709, he made Mr. Addison 
his secretary ; and the queen conferred on him the 
office of keeper of the records in that kingdom, with 
an increase of salary. 

Soon after this, Steele commenced the periodical 
pubhcation of the Tatler ; ajid Addison, having disco- 
vered that the author was his early friend, voluntarily 
lent his assistance. His communications indeed v^^ere 
so valuable, that Steele candidly confessed, " he fared 
like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful aux- 
iliary.'* The superiority of Addison's genius, and his' 
taste in fine prose writing, were so supreme, that Steele^ 
though the original projector of that immortal work, 
shrunk into a secondary rank in respect to it. 

The change of ministry which afterwards took place, 
again left Addison more at liberty to cultivate elegant 
literature: and no sooner was the Tatler laid dowti,^ 
than, in concert with Steele, he brought out that match-* 
less periodical paper the Spectator, the most capital anc! 
popular of all his works ; and which, though much' oc- 
cupied with political and tempor;\ry allusions and de- 
tails, is sull read Vv^ith pleasure and advantage, and will 
continue to instruct and improve as long as the English' 
language exists. ' ' 

The Guardian, another periodical production in the' 
same taste, followed the Spectator ; and in this too the 
N 5 



288 MR. ADDISON* 

papers written by Mr. Addison were particularly ad- 
mired. He wrote a few other fugitive essays about 
this time ; but a principal effort of his genius was the 
tragedy of Cato, which he produced in 1713. 

The plan of this masterly performance he had form- 
ed some years before, and had written a great part of 
it during his travels ; but his friends thinking it might 
be serviceable to the cause of liberty to bring it forth 
about this time, he set about fitting it for the stage, 
and its success was almost unparalleled in the history 
of the drama. It was performed thirty-five nights 
successively, with the loudest applause's of both the 
opposite political parties : it was quickly translated 
into other languages ; and has gained the highest cele- 
brit}'' for its exquisite poetry, and the interest which It 
excites in every breast not callous to the feelings of 
patriotism and of liberty. Queen Anne was so charm« 
ed with the piece, that she expressed her desire of hav- 
ing it dedicated to her ; but Addison, being before en- 
gaged In this respect, avoided violating either his duty 
or his honour, and published it without any^dedica- 
Uon. 

On the death of the queen, which happened soon 
after, this zealous champion of liberty was made secre- 
tary to the lords-justices in whose hands the regency 
was vested till the arrival of George the First. In this 
character it became his duty to announce the queen's 
death, and the vacancy of the throne, to the court of 
Hanover. To a man of less genius this would have 
been an easy matter : but Addison was so distracted by 
choice of expression, and by balancing the niceties of 
Language, that the lords-justices lost all patience, and 
ordered a clerk to execute the task ; which he, in the 
common forms, easily accomplished. Addison, how- 
ever, employed his pen to great advantage in defence 
of the establidn^ed government, in a paper entitled the 



MR. ADDISON. 28* 

Preeliolder : and the court were so sensible of his vir- 
tuous and able exertions, that he was made one of the 
lords of trade. 

In 1716, he married the countess-dowager of War- 
wick, after a long and anxious courtship ; but he found 
no addition to his happiness in this splendid alliance. 
The countess, it is said, presuming on her high rank, 
treated her husband with little respect ; and he, con- 
scious of a dignity which neither wealth nor ;power 
could confer, must have felt this vain insolence with 
peculiar keenness. The next year he was made secre- 
tary of state ; but this as little increased his felicity or 
his credit. He soon felt himself utterly unfit for the 
weighty duties of that office. He could neither speak 
in defence of a public measure without hesitation, nor 
dictate a dispatch without the confusion of modest 
doubt. The accomplished scholar and the minister are 
often opposite characters ; and it is no degradation to 
Addison to say, that he did not possess a versatility of 
genius which qualified him for every station. He saw 
his defects, and solicited leave to resign; which wa<? 
granted him, with a pension of fifteen hundred pound.^ 
a-year. 

He now retired from the bustle of business ; and, 
wisely consulting his ease and health, began to plar- 
literary occupations for the remainder of his days. 
Among other schemes which he devised to charm the 
tedium of retirement, were a tragedy on the death of 
Socrates, and an English dictionary. The former ap- 
pears to allow little scope for stage effect ; and on the 
latter, fortunately, he did not waste that time which 
could be more valuably employed. He engaged, how- 
ever, in a noble design, of which he left a part executed, 
in the Evidences of Christianity. Politics he had en- 
tirely discarded ; yet he was drawn into their vorte>: 
once more when near his end, and had for his antago- 
w.<t sir Richard Steele* The subject of dispute was 



*1(^90 MR. ADDISON. 

the peerage-blil introduGed by the earl of Sunderlandi 
The cmitest was agitated with great vehemence ; 
though it was not of sufficient consequence to create 
animosity ^ between two indifferent private persons, 
much less between two friends whose names will de* 
scend conjointly to the latest posterity v/ith honour and 
applause. Steele, in the controversy, did not forget 
his character as a gentleman or as a former friend ; but 
Addison made use of sarcasm, if not conte,nipt for-his 
opponent. It is painful for a generous mind to reflect, 
that those illustrious writers, after so many years ef 
confidence and endearment, of conformity of opinion 
and fellovrship in study, should at last thus part in acri- 
monious opposition. 

But political animosity, and even the more merito- 
rious energies of ;^ virtuous mind, were about to cease 
in Addison. He had long been subject to an asthma ; 
which, nov7 becoming aggravated by a dropsy, gave 
him the sure presage of inevitable dissolution. Wi^ 
this prospect before him, he summoned up all his reso- 
lution ; and prepared to die in conformity to the pre- 
cepts which he had taught, and the principles which 
had directed his condue'-. He forgave such as had inr 
jured him, and requested tlie forgiveness of those whom 
be had himself wronged. Afier a long and patient, 
but vain struggle with his mortal disordei^e dismissed, 
his physicians, and with them all hopes of life ; but his 
regard for the living was still as vv^aiim as in the hap-^ 
piest of his hours. The young earl of Warwick, his 
son-in-law,, gave Vv^ay too much to youthful passions;. 
and Addison had tried in vain, by the most affection- 
ate arguments, to reclaim him. He now sent for him,, 
^hen his own flame of life v/as just glimmering in the 
socket. The ^arl came ; and after a decent pause, s^id, 
" Dear sir,, you sent for me. I believe and hope you 
hive some CQmmands ; I shall hold them most sacred.'* 
Grasping his hand, the dying philosopher softly re- 
8 



JOHN CHURCHILL. 29l 

plied, " See in what peace a christian can die !*' He 
spoke this with difficulty ; his pulse then ceased tQ 
beat, and he expired. 

Mr. Tickell had the charge of publishing his posthu- 
mous works ; which, with those that appeared in his 
lifetime, are too numerous to be here particularized, 
but are all excellent. Of Addison it has been justly 
observed, that he employed wit on the side of religion, 
restored Virtue to her dignity, and taught Innocence 
not to be ashamed. This is an elevation of literary 
character " above all Greek, above all Roman fame.'' 
No greater felicity can genius obtain, than that of ha- 
ving purified intellectal pleasures, separated mirth from 
indecency, and wit from licentiousness ; of having 
taught; a succession of writers to bring elegance and 
gaiety to the aid of goodness, and of having converted 
many from vice and the error of their ways. 



JOHN CHURCHILL, 

DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, 
AND PRINCE OF THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE* 

Born 1650— Died 1722. 
From 2d Charles II, to 8th George L 

Immortal chief ! of Albion*s isle the pride, 
By martial deeds to greatest names allied ; 
Renown'd for valour, as for mercy lov*d. 
The highest pitch of human bliss you prov'd ; 
Gain'd the bright meed without the conscious stain. 
And wore the laurel unalloyed with pain. 
Unlike those pests who fought for fame alone, 
To 'slave a nation, or to mount a throne ; 
You drew the sword, the injur'd to defend. 
To aid the helpless, and the proud-to bend. 
Be this your fame ;. nor could the favouring Nine 
Gra(^e with a' praise more noble, more divine. 



2^2 JOHN CHURCHILL, 

OF this illustrious ornament and bulwark of hid 
country and of Europe, it Is almost impossible to speak 
but in the language of enthusiasm. Equally fitted for 
the cabinet and the field ; formed to shine at the levee, 
and to spread the terror of his arms over hostile na- 
tions ; in whatever light we contemplate the character 
of Churchill, he will appear one of those few men 
whom nature has gifted with extraordinary endow- 
ments, and fortune propitiously indulged with an op-, 
portunity of displaying them. His achievements, how- 
ever, fill such an ample space, that his career can here 
he only glanced at with a rapidity emblematic of 
his success ; but far unworthy of his deserts, did his 
fame rest on the present attempt to do him justice. 
Yet the most superficial sketch of his life can scarcely 
fail .to inspire ardent emotions of glory and heroism. 

This great man was the second son of sir Winston 
Churchill, of Dorsetshire ; a gentlen;ian of tried loyalty, 
for which he greatly suffered. His mother was a 
daughter of sir John Drake, of Ashe, in Devonshire j 
at whose seat the hero was born. 

He received tlie first rudiments ©f his education under 
a'clergyman in the vicinity : but his elder brother dy-n 
ing, his father, who enjoyed considerably posts at court 
under Charles the Second, judged it expedient to intro- 
duce his son into early life ; and at twelve years of age 
he was made page of honour to the duke of York, by 
whom he was much caressed and zealously patronised. 

About 1666 he received a pair of colours in the 
Guards ; and never was tlie bent of genius more hap* 
plly cbnsulted, than by indulging his early bias for the 
profession of arms. This soon proved to be his de- 
light and his glory. Having obtained leave to serv^ , 
at Tangier, then besieged by the Moors, he signalised 
himself in various skinnishes with that nation, and on 
his return to court was equally a favourite with Charles 
and v/ltli the duke of York. 



DUKE OP MARLBOROUGH. 295 

In 1672, when the duke of Monmouth tommanded 
a body of auxih'aries in the service of France, Mr, 
Churchill a-ttended him, and was promoted to the rank 
of captain of grenadiers in his grace's own regiment. 
In all the actions of that famous campaign against the 
Dutch, he had his full share of danger and of glory ; 
and was particularly distinguished by marshal Turenne, 
who gave him the appellation of " the handsome 
Englishman;" a title which he long retained among 
tlie French. Here his military talents began to dis- 
play themselves ; and on the reduction of Maestricht, 
the French king personally thanked him at the head of 
the line, and promised to acquaint his own sovereign 
with his merits. The duke of Monmouth too w^as 
eager to second this honourable testimony of his cou- 
rage and conduct ; and the road to preferment being 
once opened, his, worth, prudence, and accomplish- 
ments, secured the rest. 

It is however deserving of remark, that Churchill 
was considerably indebted for his original reputation 
and success, to the recommendations of a monarch, 
whom he afterwards humbled in the severest manner. 
Such are the vicissitudes of life and the caprices of 
fortune, that no one can tell into what situation he 
may be cast. The patriotism of Churchill, in the 
■aequel, obliged hiiri to desert his warm benefactor, the 
duke of York, and to combat that nation in whose ser- 
vice he had gathered his first laurels. 

He speedily rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel ; 
Jtnd was appointed gentleman of the bedchamber to the 
duke of York, and master of the robes. From the po- 
litical contests of the times he prudently kept himself at 
a distance ; but when his master was obliged to retire 
for a time, he attended him till a calm permitted him 
to return. 

While he waited on the duke in Scotland, }|e was 



294 JOHN CHURCHILL, 

■complimented with a regiment of dragoons : and soon 
after married miss . Sarah Jennings, of Sandridge . in 
Hertfordshire, one of the most beautiful and accom- 
plished ladies of the court, and in the household of the 
princess Amie ; in whose service she long continued, 
and acted a very conspicuous part in the great scenes 
of her subsequent reign. 

In a short time after he had strengthened his influ- 
ence by this eonnection, he was raised to the dignity of 
the peerage, by the title of lord Churchill of Eymouth, 
in Scotland. On the accession of the duke of York to 
the throne by the title of James the* Second, whose 
unabated favour he enjoyed, his lordship was sent am- | 
bassador to France to notify this event, and was con- i 
tinned in all his posts. On his return he assisted at the -^ 
coronation ; and, as a further pledge of royal regard, '• 
was created a peer of England in May 1685, by the-i 
title of baron Churchill of Sandridge. . . J 

A month after this new addition of honour, being j 
then brigadier-general, he was sent into the west under 
the earl of- Feversham, to suppress the duke of Mon4 
mouth's rebelHon. This business he accomplished with J 
celerity and success, and his reception at court was,i 
suitable to the service which he had performed. Therei 
is good reason for supposing that lord Churchill froiri 
this time saw the intention of the deluded James td- 
cverawe the nation by a standing army, and to subw | 
vert their liberties; but neither gratitude to an induU | 
^ent master, nor allegiance to his sovereign, could . 
overcome the superior duty which he owed to hiS^ 
country. Though it is probable that the struggle* 
between the partial attachment to his master, and thai ! 
higher obligations of conscience, was long and severe,- 
Ms lordship was guilty of no mean .compliances ; and 
when he saw too plainly that the devoted king was 
rushing to ruin notwithstanding-the remonstrances- of 



DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 295 

liis Best friends, he joined in the application made to the 
prince and princess of Orange, inviting them to rescue 
the British nation from popery and slavery. 

James, however, continued to place such confidence 
in lord Churchill, that on the landing of the prince of 
Orange, he gave him the commaaid of a brigade of 
five thousand men ; nor would he listen to any insinua- 
tions against his favourite, though the eafl of Fever- 
sham had dropped an intimation of the suspected dis- 
affection of his mind. 

In this situation, in which a wise man would hesitate 
and a good man feel some difficulty bow to act, lord 
-Churchill acquitted himself witli his usual prudence 
and address. Animated by the purest patriotism, 
tliough with all the honourable feelings of personal at- 
tachment to James, he singly went over to the prince 
of Orange ; and transmitted a letter to the king, which 
shews the conflict he had suffered between his love and 
his duty. He therehi painted the necessity which the 
latter imposed on him, of acting contrary to his grati- 
tude and his former allegiance : and, with a delicate 
hand, pointed to the causes whicli had led to this im- 
portant catastrophe. 

^ That lord Churchill vra.5 actuated solely by a sens« 
of duty, and entertained the highest ideas of honour, i< 
apparent from this circumstance: he betrayed no 
trust ; he carried off no troops ; and gave ViOtice of his 
allegiance being dissolved, before he entered on a nev/ 
service. The prince of Orange appreciated his merits 
as they deserved, and received him with open arms. 
He invested him w^ith the rank of lieutenant-general ; 
and was indebted not only to the military services of 
this accomplished officer in the reduction of Cork and 
Kinsale; but in a very essential degree to his influence, 
and that of his lady, with the princess of Denmark 
(James's other daughter) and her husband, wha had 
also joined the banners of liberty. 



^^ 



296 JOHN CHURCHIL1>, 

As soon as the new government wa$ settled/'lord 
Churchill was sworn of the privy-council, made one of 
the gentlemen of the bed-chamber, and created earl of 
Marlborough. 

Soon after the coronation, king William, being 
obliged to fight for the support of his crown in Ireland, 
appointed the earl of Marlborough commander in chief 
of the English forces in Holland. In the battle of 
Walcourt, fought August 15, 16S9, he gave such ex- 
traordinary proofs of military genius, that the prince 
of Waldeck publicly declared that he saw more into 
the art of war in a single day, than some generals in 
many years. On this occasion he laid the solid foun- 
dation of his fame among foreigners. King William, 
who was also a warrior himself, and an excellent judge 
of merit, was pleased to compliment him by saying 
that he knew no man so fit for a general, who had 
seen so few campaigns. 

Yet notwithstandiHg his shining talents and his re- 
cent services, it was his fate to experience the versatility 
of a court. In 1691 he was suddenly stript of all his 
employments ; and some vile conspirators taking ad- 
vantage of his disgrace, he was committed to the 
Tower with several other noblemen on a charge of 
treason. This allegation was so palpably false, that he 
was quickly liberated ; and the miscreants who had 
advanced it, were in the sequ(4 condemned to the pil- 
lory : but he still remained un^er a cloud, though no 
probable reason can now be assigned for it ; unless it 
was that he interested himself too warmly in fayour of 
the princess Anne, wliom their majesties wished to 
keep in a state of dependance. 

After the death of queen Mary, king William and 
the princess entertained more amicable sentiments for 
each otlier ; and the earl of Marlborough was not only 
recalled to the privy-council, but ^pointed governor 
tp U)e youug duke of Gloucester (only son of the prin- 



BUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 297 

icess Anne), with this high compliment from the king J 
** Make him but what you are, and my nephew will be 
all I wish to see him.'' Ln this honourable office the 
earl acquitted himself to the entire satisfaction of all 
parties: but the young prince dying in the eleventh 
year of his age, all hopes were destroyed of seeing a 
protestant successor in the family of Stuart ; and by 
the act of succession the crown reverted, after the death 
fff his mother, to the house of Hanover. 

The earl of Marlborough was soon after called to a 
more public employ ; being appointed commander in 
-chief of the English forces in Holland, and ambassador 
extraordinary to the United States. The scene now 
began to open which displayed his talents in their full 
lustre, and crowned him with never-fading laurels. 
Philip, a grandson of the house of France, united to 
the interest, directed by the policy, and supported by 
the arms of that crown, was placed on the throne of 
Spain. King William beheld this formidable coalition 
of two great, and once rival, monarchies, with jealous 
apprehension. At the close of a life spent in support- 
ing the liberties of Europe, he saw them in the greatest 
danger; and provided for their security in the most 
effectual manner, by recommending the earl of Marl- 
borough to the pnncess Anne, as the most proper per- 
son to command the army which was to support the 
balance of power, and prevent the fetters of slavery 
from b(*ing riveted on Europe. 

After concerting measures with the States, who also 
appointed him captain-general of their forces with a 
liberal salary, war was declared on the 4th of May 
1702, and the earl of Marlborough opened tlie cam- 
paign. 

To detail the illustrious actions of this great general 
during the space of ten years, would be to write the 
history of Europe for that period ; and no summary 
can convey any adequate idea of tlxeir importance. 



298 JOHN CHUkCHiLL^ 

History has recorded tlie triumphs of Marlborough 
indelible characters; and the consequences resulting 
from the terrors which his arms inspired, are perhapj 
felt at this very day : they vie with those of Alexandei 
and Caesar ; but as their objects were very different, sc 
is their praise more glorious. 

As a mark of gratitude for his transcendent services 
he was in 1702 created marquis of Blandford and duk^ 
of Marlborough : and after the battle of Blenheinr, 
which was fought wFth unparalleled bravery and suc- 
cess on the 2d of August 1704, the queen, with the 
concurrence of parliament, granted him the manor of 
Woodstock ; to be for ever held by the tenure of pre- 
senting to the queen, her heirs and successors, on the 
anniversary of the day on which the victory was achiev- 
ed, at the castle of Windsor, a standard with three 
fleurs-de-lys painted thereon. Orders were likewise is* 
sued to the comptroller of the public works, to erect a 
magnificent palace for the <luke, which received the 
appellation of Blenheim; and which remains a splen- 
did memorial of national gratitude and munificence, 
to the hero who had deserved so well of his country, - 

But though the actions of the duke of Marlborough, 
performed in the compass of a few years, were suffi- 
cient to adorn the annals of agesj though by him the 
glory of Britain was raised to such a height as might 
for ever have secured his own ; he experienced, in the 
end, that opposition at home, which rendered his situa- 
tion irksome ; and paid in full the tax which envy and 
malice are sure to lay on exalted worth. His most 
glorious exploits, his best views and designs, were mis- 
represented by a faction who wished to supersede his 
influence at any rate ; and who at last succeeded in dis- 
possessing the duke's friends of that control in the go-" 
vernment w^hich was necessary to confirm his opera-^ 
lions, and support the glory which he had acquired. M 
, The people too, intoxicated with victory, became* 



DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 299 

Unguld in support of the war, and by degrees grew cla- 
morous for peace. Negotiations were set on foot more 
than once ; but the enemy, though bleeding at every 
pore, and seeing their very vitals in danger, trusted to 
discordant counsels in the Britrsh cabinet for better 
terms, and on the removal of the duke from his liigh 
command for a change of fortune. The private ma- 
lice and the mercenary aims of a party co-operated 
with the wishes of the French court, and gave confi- 
dence to their hopes. A treaty of pacification was 
begun, on a basis which the duke of Marlborough could 
not approve; as neither promising permanent security^ 
nor advantages proportionate to our victories. He no- 
bly avowed his sentiments to her majesty ; adding, that 
as he could not concur in the measures of those who 
now directed her councils, he would not distract tliem 
by a fruitless opposition : but being attacked in the 
house of lords on the charge of having protracted the 
war from interested motives, he vindicated his conduct 
with such dignity and spirit, that the ministry strained 
every nerve to procure his dismission from all his em- 
ployments ; which in the sequel they effected, to their 
own disgrace, and the essential injury of the country. 

Being abandoned by the queen, assailed by the cla- 
mours of the populace, and traduced by hired libellers 
(who are ready to espouse the cause of any ministr}', 
and to insult where they can escape with impunity), his 
grace thought proper to retire, and to gratify his ene- 
mies by a voluntary exile. So little dependance can 
be placed on popular applause, so little is the highest 
merit regarded when xhe fluctuating tide of opinion be- 
gins to change, that a bad man may meet with accla- 
mations wiiere he deserves censure, and a good man 
bisses where he is entitled to praise. The duke of Mark 
borough was too well acquainted with life, to expect 
unalloyed satisfaction or unvarying favour in a public 
station. He knew that in proportion to a man's exalta* 



300 JOHN CHURCHILL, |H 

tion, will Be the probability of his fatiire depression! 
and that the more signally he is distinguished, the more 
he will be envied or traduced. He quitted the scene of 
contention and of temporary ingratitude, with the same . 
heroic firmness which he had displayed when com- 
bating the enemies of his country ; and landing at Os-r 
tend, was received every where, both in Ciermany and 
Flanders, with the loudest plaudits, and all the honours 
due to his rank and character. On this occasion he 
visited the principality of Mindelheim, which had beert 
conferred on him by the emperor, but which was after- 
wards restored to the elector of Bavaria by the treaty 
of Rastadt, 

His most virulent opponents, being now freed from 
apprehension by his absence, gradually lost their fury, 
and softened into candour. The peace which had been 
concluded was far from restoring harmony among the' 
queen's ministers ; and it is said that part of them enter- 
ed into negotiations with tl\e duke to induce his return, 
in hopes to benefit by his assistance in extricating them 
from the difficulties in which they were involved. It 
is certain that his grace, having spent nearly two years, 
on the continent, entered London three days after the* 
queen's death, and was received with all possible de- 
monstrations of joy. 

On the arrival of king George the First, the duke^ 
was distinguished in a manner equal to his deserts, an<i^ 
to the munificence of a sovereign who knew how to ap^ 
predate them. He was restored to all the principsflP 
commands with which he had at any time been in^ 
vested, and his advice was of most essential value iff 
crushing the rebellion in the year 1715. This was th«S 
last effort of his talents in public affairs. Broken by* 
-the fatigues of a laborious military life, and bending^ 
under the infirmities natural to declining years, he quit*- 
ted the busy scene, and spent the remainder of his days* 
in the tranquillity of runil retirement. 



DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH. 301 

He died at Windsor-lodge, in the seventy-third year 
of his age, and was interred with the highest solemni- 
ties in Westminster-abbey : whence his remains were 
afterwards removed, and deposited in the chapel at 
Blenheim ; where a noble monument is erected to his 
memory, and to that of his duchess. 

His grace had the misfortune to lose his only son, 
the marquis of Blandford, while a student at Cam- 
bridge. He left however four daughters, who married 
into the best families in the kingdom ; and his estates 
and honours being entailed, by act of parliament, on 
the female line in succession, they are now vested in the 
descendants of the earl of Sunderland, who married 
the second daughter. 

On the pedestal of a stately pillar raised to' the ho- 
Hour of his grace in Blenheim-park, is a masterly de- 
lineation of his character and achievements, supposed 
to be drawn by lord Bolingbroke ; an exti'act from 
which is here subjoined, equally elegant and just. It 
is a subject of surprise and regret, that his life has ne- 
ver yet been written in a manner which his services de- 
manded, and posterity had a right to expect, 

John, duke of Marlborough, 

The h^ro, not only of his nation, but his age; 

Whose glory was equal in the council and in the field ; 

Who by wisdom, justice, candour, and address. 

Reconciled various and even opposite interests; 

acquired an influence 

Which no rank, no authority can give. 

Nor any force but that of superior virtue ; 

Became the fixed ir#«portant centre, ^ 

Which united in one common cause 

The principal states of Europe ; 

Who by military knowledge, and irresistible valour. 

In a long series of uninterrupted triumphs. 

Broke the power of France 

When r:\ised tlie highest, when exalted the most, 

Rescued the Empire from desolation, 
Asserted apd cjDnfirmcd the liberties of Europe. 



(x302 ) 
SIR ISAAC NEWTON, 

THE PHILOSOPHER OF THE UNIVERSE. 

Born 1642— Died 1726. 

From 17th Charles /., to I2th George L 

All intellectual eye, our polar round 

First gazing through, he, by the blended poweif 

Of gravitation and projection, saw 

The whole in silent harmony revolve ; 

From unassisted vision hid, the moons. 

To cheer remoter planets numerous form*d, 

By him in all their mingled tracts were seen. 

He also fix'd our wandering queen of night ;. 

Whether she vi^anes into a scanty orb^ 

Or, waxing broad, with her pale shadowy light, 

In a soft deluge overflows the sky. 

Her every motion clear discerning, he 

Adjusted to the mutual main, and taught 

Why now the mighty mass of water swells, 

Resistless heaving on th^ broken rocks, 

And the full river turning ; till again 

The tide revertive, unattracted, leaves 

A yellow waste of idle sands behind. 

Then breaking hence, he took his ardent flight 
Through the blue infinite, and every star 
Which the clear concave of a winter's night 
Pours on the eye, or astronomic tube 
^ Far-stretching snatches from the dark abyss ; 
Or such as farther in successive skies 
To fancy shine alone ; at his approach 
Blaz*d into suns : the 11 ^^ing centre eacb 
Of an harmonious system, all combined 
And rul'd unerring by that single power 
Which draws the stone projected to the ground. 

He, Srst of men, with awfulwing pursu*d 
The comet through the long elliptic curve ^ 
As round xnnumerous worlds he wound his way, 
Till, to the forehead of our evening sky 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 303 

Return'J, the blazing wonder glares anew. 
And o'er the trembling nations shakes dismay. 

Th* aerial flow of sound was known to him; 

From whence it first in wavy circles breaks, 

Till the touch'd organ takes the message in. 

Nor could the dirting beam of speed immense 

Escape his swift pursuit and measuring eye. 

Ev'n light itself, which every thing displays, '• 

Shone undiscover'-d till his brighter mind 

Untwisted all rhe shining robe of day; 

And from the whitening undistinguish'd blaze 

Collecting every ray into his kind, 

To the charm'd eye educ*d the gorgeous traia 

Of parent colours. First the flaming red 

Sprung vivid forth; the tawny orange next; 

And next delicious yellow ; by whose side 

Fell tlie kind beams of all-refreshing green; 

Then the pure blue, that swells autumnal &kies^* 

Ethereal play'd ; and dien, of sadder hue, 

Emerg'd the deepen'd indigo, as When 

The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost ; 

While the last gloamings of refracted light 

Died in the fading violet »away. 

These, when the clouds distil the rosy shower. 

Shine out distinct adown the wat'ry bow ; 

"U'hile o'er our heads the dewy vision bends 

Delightful, melting on the fields beneath. 

Thomson's Poem on the Death of Keicton-^ 

OF a man whase discoveries embrace nothing less 
than the universe Itself, it cannot be expected to find 
here an adequate account. The poet Thomson has 
in the above extract enumerated his principal philoso- 
phical labours, and the young reader must be satisfied 
with a rapid sketch of his life and character. As his 
genius soars above all competition, so also his amlabk 
qiialities invite respect and imitation : we are at once 
enlightened by his talents, and amended by his vir- 
tues. 

Isaac? Ne\nou, one of the greatest philosophers and 



S04 :SIR ISAAC NEWTON, 

mathematicians that the world ever produced, was de- 
scended from an ancient family which had been seated 
for nearly three centuries on the manor of Wolsthorpe, 
near Grantham in Lincolnshire, where this prodigy of 
science was born on Christmas-day 1642. He lost his 
father while in his infancy; but his mother's brother, a 
clergyman in the vicinity, directed the affiiirs of the fa- 
mily for some time, and put the young philosopher to 
school at Grantharn. Having gone through a gram- 
matical education, his mother took him home ; intend-' 
ing that he should be brought up to occupy his paternal 
estate of about a hundred and twenty pounds a year, 
as his ancestors had done for ages. But fortunately 
for the world, the peculi^ir genius of Newton be- 
gan even at this early age to discover itself. His 
uncle accidentally found him in a hay-loft working a 
mathematical problem ; and thus perceiving the im- 
pulse of the boy's mind for learning, judiciously re- 
solved that it should not be diverted from its -object. 
Newton was sent to Trinity college, Cambridge; 
where the penetrating eye of Dr. Isaac Barrow soon 
discovered the vaist genius of the student, and their ac- 
<juaintance ripened Into a friendship which was propi- 
tious to his progress and his fame. 

Euclid, beyond whose work the mathematical at- 
tainments of most learners never extend, was scarcely 
the Sytudy of a week to Newton. With an intuitive clear- 
iies.s of intellect, he understood the deepest problems 
of that author as soon as he read them. He advanced 
. at once iiuto the higher regions of geometry ; and It is 
no less astonishing than true, that he had laid the foun- 
jdation of his two immortal works, the Principla and 
Optics, before he had completed the twenty-fourth 
y^ar of his age. 

But Such was the steady judgment of Newton, and 
his amiable difEdence of his own powers, that he was 
^I^vated by no vanity, nor did he wish to obtrude his 



SIR ISAAC NfiWTON. 305 

discoveries on the public. Satisfied with academic ho- 
nours, and the applause of a few judges in a point on 
which those few were competent to decide, he waved all 
pretensions to pubHc fame; and examined every part of 
his theories with rigorous severity, before he could be 
induced to submit them to the world. 

On the resignation of his patron and friend, Dr. Bar- 
row, he was chosen mathematical professor in 1669: 
before which period he had discovered the doctrine of 
fluxions, a doctrine that facilitated his acquaintance with 
the most sublime parts of geometry. The same year 
he read a course of optical lectures ; and soon after be- 
gan a correspondence with the Royal Society, to which 
he communicated some curious observations. 

The most capital discoveries have as frequently been 
the result of fortuitous thought, as of patient investi- 
gation. When a happy incident gives rise to an ori- 
ginal idea, genius pursues it to its remotest conse- 
quences, and through all its ramifications. The theory 
of the universe, which Newton solidly demonstrated, 
is said to have been suggested by a very trivial circum- 
stance. As he was sitting alone m a garden, the fall- 
ing of some apples, from a tree led him into a specu- 
lation on the power of gravity ; and he reflected tliat 
as this power is not sensibly diminished at the remotest 
distance to which w^e can rise from the centre of tlie 
-earth, it was reasonable to conclude that the samt 
principle is extended through all matter. By pursuing 
this train of ideas, and comparing the periods cf the 
several planets with their distances from the sun, he 
found that if any po%ver resembling gravity held them 
in their courses, its strength must decrease in a pro- 
portion to the increased distance. 

This inquiry, which afterwards produced the most 

sublime discoveries, was resumed again and again ; and 

every experiment which he tried, and every appearance 

m nature, confirming his theories, in 1687 his Mathe- 

o2 



306 SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 

matical Principles of Natural Philosophy were com 
pleted and published, under the auspices of the Royal 
Society. So great was Newton's modesty, that he did 
not choose to risk a publication of such high import- 
ance without the concurrence of the most learned men 
in the kingdom ; and the event justified his prudence. 
The book was at first far from meeting with that uni- 
versal applause which it was destined ultimately to re- 
ceive. The pleasing but visionary hypothesis of Des- 
c.irtcs had then obtained full celebrity ; and Newton's 
the® rtes were too sabiime to be comprehended at once, 
-even by the acutest minds. But no sooner were his 
principles understood, than they extorted general as- 
sent to their truth ; and the voice of applause rose with 
increased energ}^ from every country where genuine 
science was diffused. 

The same year in which this grand work made its 
appearance, he proved himself one of the most zealous 
' defenders of his university against the unconstitutional 
attacks of James the Second ; and soon after was cho- 
sen one of its members in the convention parliament. 

In 1696, by the interest of Mr. Montague chancellor 
cf the exchequer, who loved and patronised genius, he 
was appointed warden of the mint, and three year? 
after was raised to be master ; which office he retained 
to the end of his life, and In which situation he was of 
signal service to his country, particularly in the then de- 
preciated state of the coinage. He now appointed 
Mr. Whiston his deputy as professor of mathematics 
at Cambridge, with the full salary ; and soon after re- 
signed wholly in favour of that able but imprudent 
man. 

In 1703 he was chosen president of the Royal So- 
ciety ; and without introducing the slightest reflection 
on present or past times, it may be affirmed that this 
office was never so respectably filled. He had previ- 
ously been elected a member of the Royal Academy 



SIR ISAAC NEWTON. 30? 

of Sciences at Paris ; for the French, notwithstanding 
the.predilection natural to every nation in favour of its 
own heroes and philosophers, soon relinquished the 
fanciful philosophy of their countryman Descartes, for 
the solid principles of Newton. 

Since he had discovered the heterogeneous mixture of 
Ii<>ht, and the production of colours thus formed, much 
of his time had been employed in perfecting and ascer- 
taining the theory on which his discovery was founded. 
In fact, this seems to have been his favourite invention; 
and he spent no less than thirty years in verifying his 
own experiments. At last his Optics appeared, in 1 704 ; 
and in this science he stands unrivalled and alone. In 
his fluxions, and his principle of gravity as applied to the 
solar system, there had been some obscure hints from 
others : but in dissecting a ray of light into its primary 
constituent particles, which then admitted of no further 
separation ^ in the discovery of the different refran- 
gibility of these particles w^hen thus separated; and, 
in short, in the whole mystery of optics which he de* 
veloped ; he w\as at once the original inventor and the 
finisher. Together with his Optics he published his 
Fluxions, W'hkh had also long engaged his- attention. 
' From his aversion to literary disputes, he concealed 
this latter discovery so long, that Leibnitz attempted to 
claim the merit of the original invention ; but in this 
he w^as completely foiled by the zeal and industry of 
Newton's friends. 

Queen Aane, its a testimony of her approbation of his 
fxalted merit, conferred the honour of knighthood on 
New^ton, in 1705 : and during the reign of George the 
First, he received the most flattering attentions from 
Caroline princess of Wales ; who, having a taste for 
philosophical inquiries, courted his conversation with 
amiable condescension, and was often heard to declare 
that she considered herself happy in living in the sa^rie 
age with sir Isaac Newton. 



SIR ISAAC NEWTOrC. 

es^-obtalned from him a copy of a cfirono^ 
bglcal work which he had drawn up for his own amuse- 

ent, but with no design of committing it to the prexs. 
?robahly with a view to extend his fame, she allowed 

transcrfpt to be taken in confidence ; but a person 

lo surreptitiously obtained possession of this treasure 
printed it in France, and involved our philosopher in 
siome disputes^ which it had been the whole study of his 
hfe to shun. Yet even Newton could not expect to ex- 
tinguish envy before the grave: he felt himself attack- 
ed more than once ; but the shaft which was aimed at 
him generally recoiled on the assailant, or fell point- 
less to the gTound. 

After enjoying a settled and uniform state of health, 
the -result tf temperance and regularity, to the age of 
eighty, sir Isaac began to be afflicted with a disorder 
which was afterwards found to be incurable ; and the 
attacks of which were sometim.es so violent, that large 
drops of sweat followed each other down his face. 
Under these afflicting circumstances, his character as a 
philosopher and as a christian was equally conspicuous. 
Not a murmur escaped from his lips : he dissembled 
jhe acutest feelings of pain ; and in the intervals of ease, 
displayed all the cheerfulness and good humour which 
had ever been the constant residents of his bjeast. 
Nature being at last worn out, he resigned his breath 
in the eighty-fifth ye-ar of his age ; and was honoured 
with a splendid funeral, and a monument in West- 
minster-abbey. ^ 

Sir Isaac Newton was of a middling stature, and 
towards the decline of life disposed to corpulency. 
His countenance was venerably pleasing, but discovered 
little of that penetrating sagacity which marked his 
compositions. He never had occasion to use specta- 
cles, and it is said that he lost only one tooth during 
his life. 

In contemplating the various excellences of his pro^ 



SIR ISAAC NEWTOK. SO'^ 

found genius ; sagacity, penetration, energy of mi-ad ^ 
and diligence, seem to vie with each other, so .that it i^ 
difficult to say for which of those endowments he wa& 
most conspicuous I yet with unaffected modesty, he dis- 
claimed all singular preteniions to superior talents ; and 
observed to one of his friends, who w^as complimenting; 
him on his sublime discoveries, that if he had done any 
thing in science wortliy of notice^ it was owing to pa- 
tient industry of thinking, rather than to extraordinary 
sagacity above otlier men. " I keep/' said he, " the 
subject constantly before me ; and wait till the first 
dawnings open slowly, by httle and little, into a full 
and clear light.'* Unvarying and unwearied attention,, 
indeed, to any object, will in time accompliiih great 
things ; but no perseverance, without an uncommorv 
fhare of original genius, could form a Nev/ton* 

His temper is said to have been remarkably mildand^ 
equable, and incapabi€ of being* rufHed by ordinary ac- 
cidents. He was such a lover of peace, that he regret- 
ted whatever disturbed it as the greatest calamity that 
could befall him. When some objections were started 
to his theory of light and colours, he thus expressed hi^ 
concern; ** I blamed my own imprudenea in parting 
with so real a blessing as my quiet, to run after a shi^ 
dowi" In short, his magnanimity was such, that he 
would rather have lost the credit of the most sublime 
discoveries -ever made by man, than have risked that 
tranquillity of mind which to a philosopher is cer- 
tainly the highest charm of life. 

He spent the prime of his days in those abstruse in* 
vestigations which have immortalized his name, unde^ 
the shade of academic bowers; but so little was he tinc- 
tured with peculiarity of taste or manners, that no sooner 
was he removed to the Mint, than he devoted his chief 
attention to the duties of his station, and thenceforward 
regarded mathematics and philosophy as only secondary 
objects^ Happily, however, for his country and man- 



310 SIR ISAAC NEWTOK. 

kind, he had nearly exhausted the subjects of his research 
by what he had previously performed ; and he therefore 
turned to new avocations wkh less reluctance. 

His unaffected modesty was one of the mest remark- 
able features of his extraordinary character ; and, sel- 
dom indeed is eminent worth or genius found without 
a considerable share of this amiable qualit}\ He put 
himself on a level with every company. No singula- 
rities, natural or affected, distinguished him from other 
men ; and the sharp eye of censoriousness could never 
charge him with the vanity of assum.ed superiority/ 

Thmigh attached to the church of England, he was 
averse to persecution of any kind. In his correct and 
enlightened opinion, the real schismatics were the vi- 
cious and the profane. Yet this liberal mode of thinking 
did not arise from anypredilection for natural religion : 
on the contrary, he was deeply and seriously impress- 
ed Vv'ith the truth of Revelation ; and he studied the 
Bible longer, and with more intense application, thau 
any ether book. 

Sir Isa.ac was economical and frugal from principle, 
but was guilty of no meanness in accumulating wealtii ; 
and there are instances of his generosity, when fortune 
had put it in his power to be liberal. When circum- 
stances required it, he indulged in expense with a good 
grace ; but he had no taste for that ostentatious sort of 
magnificence which little minds think a mark of im- 
portance. He wanted no external show to set oiF his 
solid merit ; and his character being really great, he 
had no affectation of appearing wiser or better than 
ether men. 

Sir Isaac Newton never entered into the marriage 
state, nor perhaps had he leisure to think of it. Du- 
ring the flower of his years, he was immersed in those 
abstracted speculations in which the passions have little 
share ; and he was afterwards engaged in an important 
employment, and sufficiently occupied with company, 



SIR ROBERT WALPOLE, 811 

so that he appears scarcely to have felt the want of do- 
mestic endearments. Indeed, a person who would pur-- 
sue his studies occasionally three hours after his dinner 
was on the table, or sit for as long a time half-drest on 
going to bed or getting up in the morning, with his mind 
wholly absorbed in speculation, would have found ma- 
trimony an incumbrance. It has been said too, and 
perhaps with truth, that his exemption from the entan- 
glements of love, and from a taste for wine, was the 
great secondary means of his successful attainments ia 
knowledge. 



ROBERT WALPOLE, 

EARL OF ORFORIH 
Bom 1674*— Died 174-5, 

From 2oth Charles I Ly io iSt/j George IL 

THERE must surely be some latent fascination in 
power, " to vulgar souls unknown;" else, where is 
the man who would be ambitious to support the office 
of prime minister for the space of twenty years ; ha- 
rassed by its duties, absorbed in political intrigues, ex- 
posed to the malignity of opponents, and often traduced 
by his country for perhaps really prudent and merito- 
rious services ? The subject of the present article made 
a conspicuous figure in the councils of two sovereigns;, 
and long" directed the machine of state ; he appears, 
however, neither to deserve all the panegyric that has 
been lavished on him by his friends, nor all the oblo- 
quy aim^d at him by his enemies. ' 

The family Q>i Walpole had flourish-cd for ages in 

the eounty of Norfolk, and was of considerable note. 

Robert was bom at Houghton, and educated on the 

foundation at Eton, whence he was elected to King'i 

o 5 



S12 SIR ROBERT WALPOLE* 

college, Cambridge. There are no memorials of his 
juvenile days that deserve enumeration ; and he ap- 
pears to have been as much indebted to his good for- 
tune as to his extraordinary talents, for the disdnctions 
which he acquired. 

In the twenty-sixth year of his age he was elected to 
parliament for King's Lynn in Norfolk, and represent- 
ed that borough for a number of years. He had not 
been long a member of the house of commons before 
his popular and plausible eloquence attracted notice : 
for in 1705 he was appointed one of the council to his 
royal highness George prince of Denmark (husband to 
queen Anne), lord-high^admiral of England ; and was 
afterwards made successively secretary at war, and 
treasurer of the navy. 

When Dr. Sacheverel was impeached for preaching 
the arbitrary doctrines of passive obedience and non- 
resistance, Walpole was chosen one of the managers to 
make good the articles against him ; and among the 
rest he received the thanks of the house for his ser- 
vices. ' 

A change of administration taking place in the year 
1710, he was removed from all his posts; and next 
year, on account of his attachment to the great duke 
of Marlborough, and his opposition to the tory mini- 
stry, he was charged with corrupt practices while secre- 
tary of war, voted guilty of a high breach of trust, ex- 
pelled the house, and committed to the Tower. The 
object of his enemies, however, in passing this sentence 
on him, was probably more to disgrace him in the eyes 
of the nation, than for the sake of public justice. The 
whig party considered him as a martyr in their cause ; 
;ind the borough of Lynn re-elected him, and persisted 
ni its choice. The more he was depressed, the more 
popular he became ; and he exerted his eloquence on 
some important occasions in such a manner as to fix 
' ^IrmJy the affections of the people. 



SIR ROBERT WAJ.POLE. 313 

On the death of queen Anne, the whigs triumphed ^ 
and the known zeal of Walpole in favourof the Hano- 
verian succession, added to his abilities as a speaker, 
pointed him out to the regard of George the First im- 
mediately on that monarch's accession. Accordingly 
he was made paymaster of the army, and sworn a 
privy-counsellor. 

When a new parliament was -convened, the conduct 
of the last ministry was one of the first objects of ani- 
madversion. A committee of secrecy was chosen, of 
which Walpole was constituted chairman ; and under 
his management, articles of impeachment were voted 
by the commons against the duke of Ormond, and 
lords Oxford, Bblingbroke, and Strafford, who. had 
been the chief promoters of a peace which the nation 
considered as very inadequate to the brilliant successes 
of the war. Walpole's services in this affair (which 
seemed, however, to partake strongly of party spleen,) 
were so generally acceptable, that he soon rose to be 
first lord of the treasury and chancellor of the exche- 
quer. 

Though the makers of the peace had been removed 
from their stations, and Bolingbroke (who was reputed 
the most eminent of them in talents) had fled to avoid 
the storm, unanimity did not long prevail in the new 
councils. The influence of secretary Stanhope and his 
adherents appeared to prevail over that of Walpole, 
and the weight of the latter was gradually 'decreasing 
in the administration. He felt the slippery ground on 
which he stood, and began to look about him with tlie 
crafty vigilance of a courtier. 

In April 1717, Mr. secretary Stanhope delivered 
royal message to tlie house of comipons, demanding an 
extraordinary supply ; the object of which was obvious- 
ly to secure some new purchases in Germany from the 
attacks of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, out of whose 
hands they had originally been v/rested. The secretary 



^. 1 



Sf4 SfR ROBERT \^^ALPOI/E, 

having moved that this supply should be granted, a 
long and animated debate took place, in which Wat- 
pole was observed to keep a profound silence. He 
knew that the independant or country members consi- 
dered this proceeding as contrary to the act of settle- 
ment ; and by silently joining with the strongest side, 
he hoped to gain the ascendancy over his rivals in office, 
without actually offending his majesty. This tempo- 
rising policy, however, he was not permitted to observe. 
In the course of the debate, some of the members who 
were hostile to the supply, noticed the apparent division 
among his majesty's miinisters. Walpole, feeling him- 
self thus called upon, spoke in favour of the motion ; 
which at last w^as carried by a majority of only four 
votes. 

He must, have now foreseen, that with so slender a 
majority no British ministry could stand its ground. 
He therefore took the wisest alternative, and resigned, 
that he might retain some credit with the popular 
party 5 but merely, as it afterwards appeared, with the 
view of being restored With greater power. Factious 
Tnovements like these are not unfrequent ; yet in every 
age how many dupes are there to such deceptions ! 

On the very day of his resignation, Walpole brought 
in the famous sinking-fund bill ; which has since been 
so often perverted to purposes different from its origi- 
nal destination, that till w^ithin these fev7 years it has 
proved a nuisance rather than a benefit to the nation. 
Under the auspices of Mr. Pitt, it bids fair to redeem 
this country, from a load of debts and taxes ; and will 
be a splendid monument of his abilities and perseve- 
rance, to which posterity will look with veneration. 

In the debates on this bill, the contest became so 
warm between Walpole and Stanhope, that, on some 
severe expressions from the latter, the former lost his 
usual happy command of temper, and retorted with 
great warmth. The acrimony on Voth sides betrayed 
8 



vSIR ROBERT WALPOI.E* S!5 

circumstances which it would have been for the credit 
of each to conceal. 

In the next session of parliament, Walpole affected to 
be a flaming patriot, and was the determined opposer 
of administration in every thing. He could see no 
merit in any measure that tended against his own 
ambition fof place ; and as the ministry had stood 
longer than he imagined they would, he now exerted 
all his powers of eloquence to render himself formic 
dable, or to effect their fall. 

An offer of a place, however, being held out to his 
view, he softened his tone, and began to discover his 
real character. He was again appointed paymaster of 
the forces, and several of his friends were likewise pro- 
moted. His conversion was now sincere, and hence- 
forv/ard he pleaded as strongly in defence ®f ministe- 
rial measures, as he had formerly opposed them. His 
new zeal facilitated his accession to the summit of, power. 
He was again appointed first lord of the treasury and 
chancellor of the exchequer ; and when the king visited 
the continent in 1723, he was nominated one of the 
lords justices, and 3W(>m sole secretary of *state^ 
About this time too he received another mark of royal 
favour, in the elevation of his son to a peerage ; while 
he himself was made knight of the bath, and soon after 
of the ?^arter. 

o 

Such an accumulation of honour and emolument 
upon one family, with a rapidity almost unexampled, 
naturally exciled envy or dissatisfaction ; and as the 
measures of sir ivobert's administration were often un« 
precedented and bold, the press teemed with violent in- 
vectives against him. But the equanimity of his mind 
preserved him from feeling the force of these attacks ; 
and the well-disciplined parliamentary phalanx by 
w^hich he w^as supported, maintained him, in spite of all 
opposition^ t^ircugh a period almost unexampled In our 
aniivils. 



S16 SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. 

To enter into the principles of his conduct, and to ap^ 
preciate his merits and defects, for the space of twenty 
years, cannot be expected here^ To impartial history 
alone it beloftgs to discern truth through the exagge- 
rations of political friendship, and of political enmity^., 
Sir Robert Walpole has been styled the father of cor- 
ruption. That he was the first minister who exercised • 
undue influence, cannot be allowed ; but he perhaps 
deserves the censure of rearing and reducing it into a 
system. When there is so little pure virtue in private 
life, why, alas ! should we expect it in public, where 
the temptations are so much greater and more nume- 
rous ? Though it is despicable to plead, as some have 
done with the grossest effrontery, the cause of political 
venality ; yet it should not be thought that every man 
who serves his country for emolument, is wholly lost to 
the calls of a generous patriotism ; or likely to sacrifice 
its interest to a pension, a place, or a bribe, if any mo- 
mentous and eventful crisis should take place. 

After long directing the government, sir Robert 
Walpole was at la-st driven from power, by intrigues 
not more deep, but more powerful, than his own. In 
1742, finding that he was no longer able to carry a ma- 
jority in the house of commons, he resigned all his 
places. After much difficulty and opposition, the com- 
mons resolved that a. committee should be appointed^ 
to inquire into the conduct of the late minister : butt - 
the investigation to which this was intended to lead, 
was rejected by the house of lords ; and the two houses 
being at variance on this account, his majesty,, in or- 
der to screen his old servant, was obliged to prorogue 
the parliament. 

Meanwhile he was created earl of Orford, and re- 
ceived a pension of four thousand pounds a-year, in 
consideration of his long and faithful services. The 
people however continued loud in their cry for venge- 
ance ; and an ineffectual attempt was made, next ses- 
1 



SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. S17 

sion of parliament, to revive tlie proceedings against 
him. At last the ferment subsided : and Orford re- 
tired to domestic privacy and peace ; which, from the 
serenity of his natural temper, he seemed eminently 
qualified to enjoy. — Whatever objections have been al- 
leged against his ministerial conduct, his private cha- 
racter was universally allowed to be replete with ami- 
able and benevolent qualities. He was a fond indul- 
gent parent, a kind master, a beneficent patron, a firm 
friend, and an agreeable companion. It was impos- 
sible not to love him as a man, however his conduct as 
a minister might be censured ; and perhaps he was not 
more culpable in his public character, than many other 
great men who have since steered the vessel of state. 

The following compliment which Pope pays this ce- 
lebrated statesman, in reply to one of his friends who 
bids him " go and see sir Robert," will be more dura- 
ble than monumental brass, and shew^s his estimable 
private worth : 

Seen him I have ; but in his happier hour 
Of social pleasure, ill exchanged for powV : 
Seen him, uncumber'd with the venal tribe. 
Smile without art, and win without a bribe. 

Lord Orford did not long survive his resignation. 
Mankind in general look forward to the calm of declin- 
ing life with complacency and satisfaction : but the am- 
bitious mind, used to the tumult of business or intrigue, 
is seldom happy in the shade. We are the creatures of 
habit, and pine for the gratifications which we have 
lost ; and at the close of our days find it too late to 
form new connections, and to adopt new pursuits. 
When life is once brought into method, and established 
in principle, every deviation gives us pain ; and every 
change, however much it may flatter in prospect, is 
sure to disappoint us in possession. Happy is he who 
can early sit down content, nor ever heaves a sigh for 
change ! 



( 318 ) 



JOHN DALRYMPLE, 

EARL OF STAIR. . 

Born 1673— Died 174-7* 
From 2Ui C Larks IL, to ^Oth George I. 



1 



SOME men dazzle for a time by a specious lustre ;; 
but suddenly glide, like an unsubstantial meteor, from 
our sight. Others, with qualities fitted to adorn the 
highest stations, being cramped in their energies and 
confined to a narrow sphere, cast, like the glow-worm, a 
feeble light, which is noticed only by near observers. 
It was however the happier fortune of lord Stair, to 
possess those talents and virtues which are honourable 
and useful to mankind, and to be called to the discharge 
of duties wiiich made these appear to the best advan- 
tage. Born to high rank, and invested with great com- 
mands, he reflected more honour oa place and title than 
he received from them ; and not only was the idol of 
his own times, but will be a theme of applause to all J 
po-sterity. As a hero, a politic ian, and a man, he ex- 
hibited an example of all that is great and good ; so 
that he may safely be held up as a model of imitation 
to future ages, as well as the ornament of his own. 

This accomplished nobleman v/as the eldest son of 
the first earl of Stair, Even when an infiiut he displayed ,> 
Ihs ruling passion, the love of military glory. He mus- 
tered a regiment of boys of his ov/a age, whix^h he called 
by his name ;. and in a short time rendered them so per- 
fect in' such evolutions as suited his youthful fancy, that 
his future heroism and success might even then haye - 
been foreseen by a penetrating eye. Being warmed 
with the enthusiasm of virtue, and possessing a mag- 
nanimity beyond his years, he shev^ed his avepsion to 
whatever was dastardly or mean in his associates, and 



EARL OF STAIR. 313 

«\couraged in them whatever was manly and becom- 
ing. 

By the age of ten he had made astonishhig progress 
in the learned languages, under a private tutor ; the 
French of course became an easy acquisition. At four- 
teen he had run tlirough the usual course of academic 
studies at the university of Edinburgh, and was equally 
distinguished for his natural and acquired accomplish- 
ments. 

But though his attachment to a military life had dis- 
played itself so early, his father at first intended him 
for the law. The earl of Stair, however, at once- 
yielded to the importunity of his son. He sent him, 
while still a boy, into Holland ; where he initiated him- 
self in the study of arms, under that excellent com- 
mander, William prince of Orange ; who testilied for 
the young hero both the respect due to his promising 
talents, and the affectionate tenderness of a father. 

Here he made a rapid progress in fortification and 
gunnery ; and in various modern languages, which he 
afterwards spoke wnth purity and fluency. Here too he 
imbibed that spirit of liberty and independance which 
he afterwards displayed in all his conduct. 

About the aera of our glorious Revolution he returned 
to his native country ; and, through his eKoquence and 
his address, drew over numbers to the cause of William, 
by his pathetic representation of what the protestants 
suffered on the continent, and the dangerous ambition 
of the house of Bourbon. All were charmed with his 
manners and his sentiments, and almost all who heard 
or saw him became converts to his principles. 

William was not unmindful of his youthful zeaL 
He took him in his service to Ireland, where the young 
fiobleman displayed the greatest personal resolution ; 
and in the beginning of the year 1691 he accompanied 
his royal master to Holland. 

The reception which Dalrymple fooznd here was flat* 



S20 JOHN DAI>RyMPLE5 

tering in the extreme. He was caressed by all rank% 
and soon after received a colonel's commission ; nor was 
it long 4)efore he had an opportunity of particularly di- 
stinguishing himself in the glorious but unsuccessful bat- 
tle of Stecnkirk, fought in 1692. All the officers be- 
haved well, but Dalrymple performed prodigies of va- 
lour. He rallied his regiment aft^r the ranks had been 
broken by the Enemy's artillery, and stopped the pur- 
suit till the rest of the brigade had time to form. 

From this time nothing remarkable occurs in his life 
till 1701^ ; when he appeared again at the head of his 
regiment in Flanders> under the victorious duke of 
Marlborough. He served in most of his grace's cam- 
paigns ; and by his m.ilitary genius, his unshaken forti- 
tude, and amiable manners, won the regard and esteem 
of that great commander. It is impossible to do jus- 
tice to the achievements of Dalrymple, in xlong series 
of the most brilliant actions and successes, crowded 
into so narrov/ a space of time. Scarcely any memorable 
affair took place in which he did not participate, and 
bear away his full share of glory. 

When the duke of Marlborough returned home in 
1709, he introduced colonel Dalrymple to queen Anne, 
with the most liberal encomiums on his services : aiul 
his fiither dying soon after, her majesty,, as a reward for 
his military services, and a trial of his political talents,. 
sent the young earl of Stair ambassador-extraordinary 
to Augustus the^Second, king of Poland; who, charmed 
at least if not influenced by his lordsliip's amiable qua- 
lities, entered into all tl^e measures of the allies, which, 
the ambassador was commissioned to recommend and. 
enforce. 

After residing four years at the Polish court, with 
honour to himself and advantage to his country, he was 
recalled ; and the political friends, with whom he was 
connected by every tie of gratitude and esteem, being 
displaced, he was involved in their fate.. On tliis oGca- 



EARL OF STAIR. 321 

slon, his integrity was proved beyond a doubt : so little 
had he regarded his private interest, that he had con? 
tracted a considerable debt ; and his plate and equipage 
would have been seized, had it not been for the gene- 
rous interference of his countryman lieutenant Lawson, 
who oifered him a sum of money to redeem them. 
The gratitude of the earl of Stair to this gentleman 
ever after, was as honourable as the friendship which 
he had experienced. 

He now retired to a country life, but was not long 
doomed to inglorious inactivity. ' On the accession of 
George the First he w^as appointed one of the lords of 
the bed-chamber, sworn of the privy-council, and soon 
after made commander-in-chief of the forces in North 
Britain. His influence in his native country was so 
great, tliat he rendered the highest service to the mini- 
stry in the returns to tlie new parliament tliat met in 
1715, and w^as himself elected one of the sixteen peers 
of Scotland. At this crisis, an ambassador of genius, 
fortitude, penetration, and address, was peculiarly want- 
ed at tlie court of Versailles ; and the earl of Stair v/as 
pitched on as possessing all these qualities in an eminent 
degree. The high expectations entertained of him were 
amply gratified. Though he had to counteract the po- 
licy of the most intriguing court on earth, he developed 
ils latent designs with so much sagacity, and contended 
for the interests of his country wnth so little fear, that 
he was no less respected than dreaded by the French 
government. He penetrated into the deepest counsels 
of Louis and the Pretender ; and frustrated their de- 
signs, in general, before they w^ere ripe for execution. 
On the death of the king of France, he intimidated 
the regent to such a degree by a spirited memorial, that 
the latter reluctantly withdrew the promised assistance 
to the Pretender; and thus the efforts to excite a rebel- 
'^on in Scotland came to nothing. 

As a negotiator the earl of Stair attracted a deserved 



322 JOHN DALRYMPLE^ 

notice, and shone unrivalled in his time. His disinter- 
ested character gave force to his remonstrances, and 
his high spirit would not brook equivocation or delay. 
He supported the honour and dignity of his country 
with a boldness that, , in ordinary men, would have 
been deemed insolence or rashness. When the duke 
of Orleans, regent of France, came in great state to 
visit him; and had set one foot on the ground, but 
kept the other fixed on the ^tep of the coach ; lord Stair, 
who advanced, observing this posture, stopped ; and 
asked the attendants on his highness, " whether their 
master came to visit him as his Britannic majesty's am- 
bassador, or as earl of Stair?'* Receiving no answer, 
he added, " If he comes to see me as lord Stair, I shall 
reckon it my greatest honour to receive any officer of 
the crown, much more the duke regent, at the door of 
his coach ; but if he comes to visit me as ambassador 
ef my august and royal master, I should deem myself 
unworthy of the trust reposed in me, if I went a step 
further than I have done.*' This being reported to the 
regent, his highness drove away ; and caused it to be 
signified to his lordship, that his appearance at court 
would be dispensed with. This coolness continued for 
some months : but the earl, hearing of some naval 
{equipments v/hich he could not look at with indifference^ 
fv^rced his way to an audience ; when he argued v/ith 
so much spirit, and shewed such an intimate acquaint- 
ance with the most secret designs of the different courts 
on the continent, that the regent was forced to acknow- 
ledge some very deep and extensive machinations 
against the tranquillity of Britain. ^ 

In short, his abilities had such an ascendancy over the 
regent before he left France, that his highness, being 
once publicly asjced what part he would take in the 
troubles of the north, answered, "Just what the Britisii 
ambassador pleases." Nor was he less acceptable to 
tjie people in general ; he vras benevolent and ctari- 



EARL OF STAIR. 323 

Uible, and endeared to the lower ranks by his splendour 
and hospitality. 

Indeed, the honour of his country had ever been the 
ruling motive of the earl of Stair. He had involved 
himself considerably in debt, in supporting his high 
character at the French court ; and being unwilling to 
contract- the scale of his magnificence, he solicited and 
obtained his recall. The king however was so well 
pleased with the conduct of his ambassador, that he de- 
clared he would have created him a duke, had not the 
law of the Union opposed it ; and evinced such a sense 
of his fidelity, that no praise could go beyond it. The 
people, on the other hand, echoed back the praises of 
their sovereign ; and every voice resounded with ap- 
plause. The favour of George the First remained un- 
abated to the last, and on the accession of George the 
Second he was received into the same confidence. In 
addition to the other honourable posts which he held, 
he was made lord-admiral of Scotland in 1730 : but no 
allurements could divert him from what he considered 
as" his duty to his country ; and when the plan of an 
excise was first brought into parliament by sir Robert 
Walpole, he was one of those who opposed it on the 
purest principles, and soon after resigned all his places. 
Yet he shewed no hostility against the minister, and on 
every occasion behaved with a moderation suitable to 
the dignity of his character. 

Being disencumbered cf office, his lordship now be- 
took himself to the practice of agriculture ; and by the 
improvements which he introduced in that art, was 
no less beneficial to his country than when in his proud- 
est exaltation. He was still visited and caressed by all 
who were estimable in worth, celebrated for talents, or 
dignified by rank. In urbanity, and colloquial fascina- 
tion, he had no equal ; and the excellent qualities of 
his heart equalled his brightest acqiiired accomplish- 
ments. 



8*24 EARL OP STAIR, 

While employed in rural pursuits, a citoige of mini* 
stry took place; a war was on the point of breaking out, 
and his lordship was again invited into the service of 
his country. With the approbation of every good sub- 
ject, and of every true Briton, he was in 174'2 made 
field-marshal of his majesty's forces, and ambassador- 
extraordinary and plenipotentiary to the States-general. 
The king now, emancipated from the counsels of Wal* 
pole, received him with a degree of tenderness and af- 
fection which convinced every spectator how much his 
majesty estepmed him ; and soon afterwards sent him 
to Holland ; where his eloquence and arguments had 
so much weight, that the States were not tardy in adopt- 
ing the views of the British court. 

To enumerate every praise-worthy action of this great 
general and politician, would swell this article to an 
improper length. At the successful battle of Dettingen^ 
where he was commander in chief, he shewed the same 
unshaken courage, ^spirit, and intrepidity, as had adorned 
his youthful years ; but finding active service too labo- 
rious at this season of life, he petitioned soon after to 
resign, and resumed his rural occupations with fresh de- 

light. _ . 

Hov/ever, on the breaking out of the rebellion in 
1745, he repaired to court, and made an offer of his 
services ; which were gladly accepted. He accompanied 
the duke of Cumberland to Edinburgh, and assisted his 
operations. This was the last public service which he 
v/as able to perform. His health gradually gave way, 
or rather age asserted its sovereign sway over his con* 
stitution, and in May 1747 he breathed his last. 

The noble youth whose bosom beats high for Glory^' 
and who views her temple within his reach, will con- 
template the character of field-marshal the earl of Stair 
with emulation and delight ; while those whose prospects 
are more limited, may copy this illustrious pattern in 
all the virtues of his heart, witli pleasure and advantage. 



SIR HANS SLOANE. 325 

Equally fitted for camps or courts, he shone in both 
with distinguished lustre. His honour was unlm- 
peached, and his veracity would by no subterfuge 
admit any degree of deception. He was great with- 
out pride, just without rigour, and bountiful with- 
out ostentation. His soul melted at distress ; and his 
hand was ever open to relieve merit, or his favour 
ready to raise and cherish it. In a word, h.e possessed 
accomplishments and virtues which benefited his king, 
exalted his country, and dignify human nature. 

In person he was above the ordinary stature, but 
graceful and handsome in an uncommon degree. His 
deportment inspired respect ; and on his countenance 
was imprinted the soft smile of benignity, the emana- 
tion of a humane and virtuous heart. Indeed, all his 
personal graces were but so many indications of the su- 
perior beauties of his mind ; and the love and admira- 
tion which he attracted were paid less as compliments 
to his exalted rank and station, than as a just tribute to 
his genuine worth. 



SIR HANS SLOANE. 

Born 1660— Died 1752. 
From lU/j darks ILy to 25th George II. 

THOSE who smooth the road to science or litera- 
ture, and facilitate the acquisition to others, are often 
more permanently useful than such as are superemi- 
nently learned themselves. The greatest personal or 
mental acquircments die with the possessors ; but those 
who labour that others may be wise, benefit all poste- 
rity. The founders of schools, of colleges, of lectures, 
and of libraries,, are therefore entitled to no mean 
praise j and their fame deserves to live in the genius 



S26 SIR HANS SLOANE. 

iX'hIch they have excited, the patronage whlc^i they 
have bestowed, and the facihtles which- they have af- 
forded to learning and to knov/ledge. 

As an author, Sloane was distinguished for one work 
only, the Natural History of Jamaica ; as a naturalist 
and physician, he had equals, if not superiors ; but, as 
the founder of that noble institution the British Mu- 
seum, he claims a place in the temple of British wor- 
thies. 

Hans Sloane was a native of Killaleagh, in the north 
of Ireland ; but of Scotch extraction. His first dawn- 
ings of intellect discovered a strong propensity to re- 
searches into the mysteries of nature, and the curiosi- 
ties of art ; and his parents, with a judgment Vv^hich 
merits praise, encouraged his taste by a suitable educa- 
tion. Natural history w^as his delight ; and by an easy 
transition, he adopted the medical art as a profession. 
To perfect himself in this he repaired to London, the 
general repository of knowledge; where he attended 
the public lectures in every branch of science con- 
nected v/ith his favoitrite pursuits. 

Though so young, and without the recoBimendation 
of great alliances, he had the happiness to attract the 
notice of the amiable Boyle and the inquisitive Ray : 
the former, one of" the greatest experimental philoso* 
phers that ever lived; the latter, the best naturalist 
and botani^tx)f his age. Under the auspices of these 
gentlemen, Sloane improved his natural abilities, and 
cultivated his particular taste to a high degree. A 
similarity of pursuits made them friends, and the young 
student was not ungrateful for the patronage which 
he received. 

Having spent four years in London with unremitted 
attention to his favourite studies, he was advised to tra- 
vel for further improvement. The university, of Paris, 
at that time, was distinguished for its eminent profes- 
sors in every branch of the healing art ; and there 



SIR HANS SLOANE. 327 

iSioane determined to become a pupil. Meanwhile he 
frequented the hospitals, contracted an acquaintance 
with the most distinguislied physicians, and every- 
where experienced that reception which is dtie to sci- 
civce and to talents. 

As a candidate for a solid reputation in the first 
ranks of his profession, he omitted no opportunity of 
acquiring knowledge ; he thought no pains too great 
tliat opened a new field of improvement. From Paris 
he went, with warm and ample recomm.endations, t6 
the most illustrious physicians and naturalists at Mont- 
pellier, a situation peculiarly favourable for hotanical re^ 
searches ; and here he spent a whole year in the capti- 
vating investigation of nature's sponta.neous produc- 
tions. 

About the close of 1 (^84, Sloane returned to London ; 
where he resolved to settle, and practise as a physician. 
His fame had preceded him ; and t^ie immortal Syden- 
ham, a man too great to be tinctu' ed with the n^ean- 
ness of professional jealousy, took him under not only 
his -patronage but his roof, and introduced him with the 
warmest zeal to his friends. Thus in superior minds 
we find a generosity of sentiment which disdains all 
selfish considerations ; while grovelling souls are ab- 
sorbed in private views, and hate that excellence which 
they -cannot reach. The compliment paid by Syden- 
ham to the young physician was, no doubt, justly due 
to his skill and accomplishments } but how few are so 
fortunate as to have their worth allowed, much less 
blazoned to the world, by professional rivals for honour 
and emolument; 

Having transmitted to his friend Ray a. great variety 
of seeds and plants from France, by the influence of 
yT^hat sedulous inquirer into nature he was proposed a 
member of the Royal Society, and received with very 
iattering tokem of respect. The following year he 
was elected a fellow pf the Royal College of Physicians ; 



• ^ 



328 SIR HANS SLOAN £• 

and his reputation was now so firmly established, that 
he might have realized any expectation which he could 
have formed. 

His ruling passion, however, overcame the love of 
ease, and the accumulation of riches. The duke of 
Albemarle, who had just been appointed governor of 
Jamaica, made proposals to Sloane to accompany his 
grace as his physician. This opened a new field to his 
inquisitive Tnind : Nature had not yet been unveiled in 
the West Indies ; and he panted to be the handmaid 
of her charms, and to rifle her sweets without a rivaL 
No representations of his friends could prevail on hinv 
to relinquish his design of accepting this offer ; and 
during a residence of fifteen months in Jamaica, his ^ 
industry in collecting plants was so indefatigable, that 
he accumulated more than the best botanists of the 
time imagined to be indigenous in that climate, or in- 
deed in both the Indies. 

His curiosity being now fully gratified, and his re- 
putation crowned with new^ accessions, he returned to 
London, and resumed his practice ; which was soon as < 
extensive as his abilities were great. Being chosen fl 
physician of Christ's Hospital, he gave an illustrious 
proof of his philanthropy and disinterestedness, by ap- 
plying the whole amount of his salary to the relief of 
the most indigent and miserable among the patients of 
the house. For restoring health to the poor, he thought 
it mean to reap emolument. Of tliis beneficent and 
noble disposition we find many instances in the medi- 
cal profession, but few occur in any other. 

Being elected secretary of the Royal Society in 1693, 
he had the honour of reviving the publication of the 
Philosophical Transactions, which had for some time 
been discontinued ; and greatly enriched the volumes, 
for many years, with his own original contributions.-^ 
But ai;i attention to this department of literature did 
not alone occupy his pursuits. For some years he had 



SIP. HANS SLOANE, S29 

employed his vacant hours in collecthig whatever was 
rare and curious in nature or art ; and his cabinet was 
so well filled, that it soon merited the Inspection of the 
learned. Among others who visited this repository, 
and respected its ingenious author, was Mr. Couston ; 
a gentleman of fortune who had spent his time, and a 
liberal share of his income, in the same objects. A 
congeniality of mind and taste attached him to Dr. 
Sloane. Anxious that his own collection, and his 
name, should be perpetuated, he thought he could not 
better provide for both than by adding his museum to 
that of Sloane ; and accordingly he bequeathed him 
tiie whole. 

The Sloanean cabinet thus became one of the first in 
Europe J and the learning, skill, industry, and public 
spirit, of the proprietor, seemed to claim some distin- 
guished honour. Foreigners had duly estimated Dr. 
Sloane's high merit as a professional man and a natu- 
ral ist, and his sovereign was ready to reward it. About 
the year 1 720, George the First, to whom he had been 
first physician for some time, raised him to the dignity 
of a baronet. He was likewise appointed president of the 
College of Physicians ; and filled the president's chaif 
In the Royal Society, as successor of the immortal 
Newton. These honours at home were allowed by 
other nations to be well eanied ;■ sir Hans Sloane was 
elected a member of the Royal Academy of Paris, and 
his correspondence v;as courted by almost every learn-- 
ed society in Europe. 

From this period, doctors Sloane and Mead were the 
only physicians of distinguished reputation in the me- 
tropolis ; and such Was the extent of their practice, that 
they are said to have cleared each about six ^ousand 
pounds a-year. The one (as was mentioned before) was 
introduced by Sydenham, and the other by RadcliflPe ; 
who, during their own time, had also divided the me- 
dical honours in the capital. 
p2 



S30 SIR HANS SLOANE. 

'Borne down bv the weight of years, and loaded uitb 
honours and opulence, sir Hans Sloane in 17-^9 retired 
to Chelsea, to enjoy in peaceful tranquillity the few 
moments of life that were yet to come. He did not, 
however, court solitude ; but only an exemption from 
the toils of business. He was daily visited by persons 
of high rank and distinguished literary attainments, 
whether natives or foreigners, A day was set apart 
weekly for a gratuitous exhibition of his museum ; and 
another w^as devoted to the relief of the sick poor, to 
whom sir Hans w^as a liberal benefactor during a long 
and w^ll-spent life. 

From the age of sixteen, this valuable man had been 
subject to pulmonary complaints ; but by temperance 
and medicine he overcame this radical infirmity, and 
reached an uncommon degree of longevity. In Janu- 
ary 1752 he expired without a groan, in the ninety- 
first year of his age; possessed of all his faculties to 
the last, and crowned w4th honour. 

In person sir Hans was full and well-proportioned, 
in manners polished and captivating, and in conversa- 
tion sprightly and facetious. As a physician he was 
remarkably successful : and deserves great credit for 
being the first who introduced the free use of that va- 
luable specific the Jesuits' bark ; tried by him, and 
found efficacious in "cv variety of complaints to which 
before his time it had never been administered. 

But the best part of his character was his genuine 
charity and philanthropy. As his abilities to do good 
increased, so did his disposition. He was a governor 
of almost every hospital in London ; and besides ills 
legacies, was a generous patron to them during life. 
He first laid the plan of a dispensary where the poor 
might be supplied w^lth medicines at prime cost; he 
presented the company of apothecaries w- ith their bota- 
nical garden at Chelsea, in the centre of which stands 
^^'^■^ statue ; and he promoted the estabiishment of the 



^F'T" ■ 



SIR HANS SLOANE. 531 

FoundlIng-hospIt;il, and communicated tlie best in- 
structions for the nutrition of the children. 

These are some T)f his good deeds ; which will speak 
Ills praise when the marble monument shall moulder 
into dust, and the statue no longer bear the similitude 
of a man. Nor was this all. His library and cabinet 
which he had been at so much pains to form and col- 
lect, he bequeathed to the public, on condition that the 
sum of twenty thousand pounds sliould be paid his fa- 
mily. Large as this sum may appear, it was not half 
the value of the legacy ; and scarcely more than the 
intrinsic worth of the precious metals, stones>. and ores, 
w^hich the museum contained. This noble collection 
of curiosities, added to hrs library of fifty thousand vo- 
lum.es, laid the foundation of the British Museum ; and 
parliament, with a liberality wliich reflects the highest 
honour on the nation, by subsequent purchases, gifts^ 
and bequests, has been enabled to complete tlie esta- 
blishm.ent of an institution, whose utility will remain to- 
latest times, and. form one of the proudest monuments 
to British taste and science. 

Very lately (in the spring of 1805), parliament has 
granted the sum of eight thousand pounds for the sole 
purpose of enlarging tlie British Museum by additional 
buildings,, to contain the inestimable curiosities acquired 
in Egypt by our victorious countrymen ; the principal 
article of which is the large stone sajjcophagu:?, gene- 
rally and with the greatest probability supposed to be 
the very coffin in "which the body of Alexander the 
Great was embalmed. The Museum is freely open to 
all persons, on their only taking the trouble to leave 
their names with the porter at the gate a day or two 
beforehand ; and it may be presumed that there are 
few classic students in particular who will not now 
avail themselves of the opportunity of seeing some of 
';he renowned wonders of Egypt v^ithout leaving their 
L'Wn country. 



( 332 ) 
MAJOR-GENERAL JAMES WOLFE, 

Bora 1726— Killed 1759.' 
Pi'om I2tb George I, to 32d George IL 

THE energy of a sovereign, or the virtue of a mi- 
nister, is easily communicated to a whole nation. Like 
the electric shock, it is felt to the extremity of the 
<:ircle. Each person in contact starts from the torpor 
of inactivity, and is inspired with resolution, to emulate 
the qualities which he sees honoured and admiredr 
When talents and virtues are sure of promotion, com- 
petitors for the prize .Will never be w^anting. Encou- 
ragement kindles the flame of genius, and the ardour 
of military enterprise. The immortal and revered 
William Pitt, the first earl of Chatham, whose elo- 
quence flashed indignation on the corrupt and degene« 
Tate, and whose plaudits were ever paid to virtue ; 
itfhose capacious mind embraced every object, and 
whose spirit proved the shield of his country and tlie 
terror of her foes 5 by his vigorous measures called a 
race of heroes into being, and fostered them with pa- 
ternal care. He sought for merit wherever it v/as to 
\^ found 5 he discovered it sometimes under the cloud 
Df neglect, and sometimes in the shade of obscurity. 
He brought it into action for the honour and service of 
the public, and reaped a harvest of glory from its suc- 
cess. Among x)thers whom this penetrating and saga- 
cious statesman armed w^ith the thunders of Britain, 
was the illustrious subject of the present article. It is 
to be deeply lamented that the span of life allowed 
him was too short to furnish more numerous incidents ; 
biH all its parts are. replete with glory. 

James Wolfe was the son of a military oSicer of 
rank, who had gathered laurels under the duke of Marl- 
borough. He was bora at Westerham, in Kent ; but 



GENERAL WOLFE* S39 

notwithstanding the brilliant part which he played on 
the theaire of life, not a single circumstance is pre- 
served that can afford the least insight into the habits 
of his early years. It would have been a pleasure to 
trace the future hero in tlie pastimes of the boy, and 
to mark the dawnings of jsuperior intellect in the rude 
essays of untutored fancy. 

That Wolfe received a military education, and was 
destined for the profession of arms almost from his in- 
fancy, can admit of no dispute. Honourable mention 
is made of his conduct and bravery at the battle of 
J. a Feldt, which was fought when he was only in the 
twentieth year of his age. His royal highness the duke 
of Cumberland saw his promising talents, and rewarded 
them by promotion ; but the gradations of his rise are 
not ascertained. It is only known, that during the 
whole war he without interruption advanced his mili- 
tary character, and carried off laurels from every con- 
test. 

Even when he might have reposed in the lap of 
peace, he disdained ignoble ease, and cultivated the 
arts of war. He had the honour of introducing, by 
his example and perseverance rather than by the exer- 
cise of severity, such a perfect discipline into his own 
regiment, that as long as the plains of Mindea are re- 
membered, so long will Kmgsley^s (as the regiment was 
called) be mentioned with applause. He continued 
lieutenant-colonel of that body till new hostilities broke 
out. He was endeared to his men no less by his atTec- 
tionate concern for their welfare, than by his persoiial 
couritge, which had never received the slightest impu- 
tation of dishonour. They obeyed his commands 
from a higher principle than duty ; and little does that 
oiBcer consult his glory or his interest, who trusts to 
the influence of authority alone. Men may be ruled 
by force, but the mind can only be gained by respect 
and love^ 



SS4 GENERAL WOLFE- 



1 



In' the year 1756, war was formally declared agamst 
France. Its commencement was an uninterni^ned '^e- 
lies of disgraces and disappointments, till Mr. Pitt was 
called to the helm of state. He immedi.itely began his 
virtuous career by bringing forward men of the most 
enterprising and active genius, and the tide of success 
was soon turned by their talents. Wolfe, whose youth- 
ful exploits had not been forgotten, and could not be 
overlooked by a statesman like Pitt, was raised to the 
rank of brigadier-genera^ and put under the command 
of general Amherst. They were sent against Loiiis- 
bourg, and Wolfe was employed to cover the landing of 
the troops ; which he effected, amidst a storm of hre 
from the enemy's batteries, and an impetuous surf 
which dashed some of the boats to pieces. Calm and 
collected, he displayed an energy equal to the occasion; 
ani the conquest of the place was in a great measulre 
a.scribed to bis judgment and his fortitude. 

Scarcely had he returned from this expedition, when 
tlie honourable share which he had borne in it pointed, 
him put as worthy of a higher command. He was 
raised to the rank of major-general, and sent to reduce 
Quebec. The generals who served under him were aH 
young meuj, whom a less sagacious minister than Pitt 
would have hesitated to trust ; but he Vv^isely measured 
abilities by another standard than years. Age may in- 
spire prudence, but it is apt to cool enthusiasm ; and 
the veteran general is more solicitous to prevent dis- 
grace, than to hazard enterprise. Wolfe and his asso- 
ciates, on the other hand, saw glory before them, and 
overcame almost insurmountable impediments to pay 
tcr homage. 

Here the abilities and courage of Wolfe shone forth 
in the fullest lustre. Undaunted by difficulties which 
would have cooled the ardour of an ordinary man, dis- 
re^-arding the strength of situation and superiority of 
numbers, and even refusing nature the respite which 



GENERAL WOLFE. &»§- 

she solicited (as he was sufFering under a fever and a- 
flux }y. he persevered with unwearied judgment and. at- 
tention to open tlie way to victory. His mihtary coun- 
cil desponded at the contemplation of their prospects, 
and the general himself would have been justified in 
yielding to the pressure of unfortunate circumstances ;. 
but he, singly and alone in opinion, projected the plaa 
which was to annihilate the French power in America*; 
He did more ; he executed it with a success on which 
the most sanguine could scarcely have presumed. 
Having gained tlie heights of Abraham, on which side: 
the city of Quebec was most exposed, he hastened tO' 
give battle to the enemy ; who advanced to the charge 
with much superior numbers, and in good order.. The- 
gallant Wolfe stationed himself in the front of the line, 
in the hottest point of action. He was early wounded 
in the wrist, but neither pain nor danger could prevail 
oil him to desert the post of glory; he wrapped a. 
handkerchief round -the wound, and continued to give- 
his orders wiithout emotion, Advanci*ag at the head 
of his grenadiers, with bayonets fixed, a ball pierced 
him through the breast ; and he fell at the moment 
when the enem^y began to give way, and the British, 
arms became triumphant. He was instantly carried to 
a small distance in the rear ; and the tide of life was 
ebbing fast, when he was roused in the agojajes of 
death by the cry, " They nan ! they run !''" Catching 
the sound, he eagerly asked, " Who run ?" PJe had 
the satisfaction to hear it was the French. In a. fal- 
tering voice he erclaimed ;. ** Then, I thank God, I die 
content :" and with these words expired.. 

Such was the lamented end of general Wolfe, one oC 
the most enterprising and accomplished officers, jvhich 
this natioij ever produced- He lived to be the con- 
queror of Canada, for the event of that day sealed its^ 
fate ; but he died too early for his country, aad. the joy 
? 5 



S36 GENEvRAL WOLFE, 



of conquest was embittered by a reflection on the deaiw" 
ness of its purchase. A mixture of every passion that 
can agitate the generous heart, attended this national 
triumphs Mr. Pitt in the house of commons, pro- 
nounced the eulogy of the deceased in such strains of 
affecting eloquence, as drew tears from every eye. 
The minister was absorbed in the better feelings of the 
man, and he wept at the immortality which he had 
given. 

When the l>ody of general Wolfe was brought to 
Portsmouth, the scene was impressively solemn. Mi- 
nute-guns were fired from the men-of-war at Spithead, 
from the time the corpse was taken from the ship, to its 
slow landing at the Point. Bodies of military marched 
down to receive it. It was put into a hearse, and pro- 
ceeded in funeral pomp through tlie garrison under 
'dTxns. During this awful procession, the colours on 
the fort were half-lowered, the bells were muffled, and 
tolled in solemn concert with the dead march ; ininute- 
guns were fired from the platform ; and troops, with 
arms reversed, preceded and followed the hearse. The 
body was afterwards privately deposited in the family 
vault at Greenwich church ; and a superb national 
monument was erected to his memory in Westminster- 
abbey, at the expense of four thousand guineas. These 
were some of the unavailing honours paid to the con- 
queror of "Canada, which remains a faithful appendage 
:o Great Britain. His name still continues to inspire-^ 
martial enthusiasm in the youthful bosom, and to lure 
r/he aspiring to the field of glory. But while his public 
character serves to excite emulation, his private also is 
entitled to warm esteem. 

He seems to have been formed by nature for military 
greatness. Not only was his constitutional bravery 
uniform and daring ; but he possessed that higher spe- 
vies of courage, — that. streAigth, steadiness, and activity' 



I 



LORD AN50N. SS7 

of mind, — which no difficulties could vanquish, no 
dangers deter from the pursuit of his G^^^^ and his coun- 
try's glory. 

Though subject to a vivacity of disposition almost 
bordering on impetuosity, he was betrayed into no un- 
guarded sallies -of passion ; and with a generous inde- 
pendance of mind, he was free from pride. His boun- 
ty almost bordered on profusion, and he despised the 
arts of gain. It was his highest gratification to assist 
the deserving soldier, and even the mferior officer in di- 
stress has frequently experienced his liberality. In his 
attachments he was constant and discriminating ; and 
gentle, kind, and conciliating, in his manners. 

It was the peculiar good-fortune of general Wolfe, 
not only to enjoy a large share of the friendship, but al- 
most the universal good-will, of mankind. Ke was 
one of those who appear to have vanquished envy bv' 
the indisputable superiority of professional talents, and 
acknowledged excellence of Heart. This is the most 
exalted com.pliment that can be paid to man ; for 
that character must be sublime indeed Vy'hicb envy and 
malice will not venture to attack. 



GEORGE, LORD ANSON. 

Born 1697— Died 1762. 

From Stk JV'dliam IIL, to Ind George IIL 

A FATALITY attends the best concerted plans of 
some able men; while a mediocrity of talents, without 
energy, and almost ^vithout effort, not unfrequentiy 
carries away the prize. The prudent must often en- 
counter combined difficulties which no foresight can 
avoid, while the rash and unreflecting escape the dan- 
gers v/hich they seem to provoke. But patient forti- 
tude, united to skill and enterprize^ will generally pre- 



328 LORD AxNfSON. 

vail at last ; and fortune, weary of buftetiag the 
brave, will leave them near the haven of their wishes.;,. 

Whoever has read the history of Anson's voyagfij 
round the world, will be able to apply some of these 
reflections to the particular case of this eminent officers 
who, amidst the most forlorn prospects, did not de- 
spond ; and whose perseverance and courage were ulti- 
mately crowned with proportionate reward. 

George Anson was the younger son of a very re- 
spectable family in Staffordshire, and was born at Shuck- 
borough in that county. His inclination led him to the 
naval profession, and his father gave liim an education 
suitable to his views. It was his greatest delight ta 
read the narratives of voyagers, and the illustrious ac- 
tions of admirals,, from his earliest years j and thus his 
genius could not be misconceived, and fortunately it 
was not opposed. 

Of his exploits while in the lower rank of naval ser* 
vice, nothing is now known. Where he was stationed,, 
or under whom he served, has not been recorded. 
That he went through the subordinate stations in the 
royal navy with credit, and had rendered himself by his. 
diligence perfectly master of his profession, may be 
inferred from the following circumstance : that in the 
twenty -fifth year of his age he was promoted to the com- 
mand of the Weasel sloop 'y. and soon after obtained 
the Scarborough man-of-war, in which ship he displayed 
great intrepidity and judgment. A long interval of si- 
lence, as to his subsequent destinies, succeeds^ for a 
military officer has only the best chance of being noticed 
when engaged in his proper element, a war. 

About the close of the year 1731, a rupture with 
Spain appearing inevitable, government rightly cons-i- 
dered that the most effectual -step to distress the enemy 
was to attack them in their ilmerican settlements ; and 
thus cut off their supplies of money, the principal sinew 
of war. 



LO&D ANSON, SS9 

This plan, so politic, and apparently so practicable^ 
suffered various unaccountable delays before it was car- 
ried into execution ; and at last was attempted on a 
contracted scale, and with a very inadequate force. 
Mr. Anson, who was then captain of the Centurion^ 
was appointed commodore of a squadron of five ships, 
destined for the South Seas. The spirit and the dili- 
gence of the commander deserved more prompt and ef- 
ficacious measures, on the part of government, for the 
equipment of his fleet : but ten_ months elapsed from 
his appointment before he was ready to put to sea ; and 
at last he had the mortification to find, that the small 
land force with which he was entrusted was fitte-r for 
an hospital or a garrison, than to beem.ployed in a di- 
stant and dangerous exp.edition, where the vigour of 
health, added to the experience of arms, was essen- 
tially requisite. Nor was this the only disadvantage 
which attended his outset. By the most criminal de- 
lays, the enemy were fully apprized ef the nature 
and obji^t of this expedition ; and the season of the 
year was the most unpropitious for a navigation so little 
known, and so replete with dangers. 

The commodore however, though he might be vexed, 
was not dispirited. He sailed on the 18th of Septem- 
ber 1740, in his flag-ship the Centurion of sixty guns,. 
with the Severn and Gloucester of fifty guns each, the 
Pearl of forty guns, the Wager storeship, and the 
Tryal sloop ; and arrived in the latitude of Cape Horn 
about the vernal equinox, when the weather in tha^t cli- 
mate is dreadfully tempestuous. Hi-s career was now 
obstructed by accumulating diflicukies, but his resolu- 
tion was undaunted ► With extreme hazard he doubled 
that stormy cape, in company with the Gloucester and 
the sloop. The Severn and Pearl, after various at- 
tempts, were under the necessity of putting back, and 
the Wager was lost.. The scurvy also began to make 
^^xcessive ravages among the ships that were left y but 



S40 LORD ANSON. 

having refreshed his men and repaired his damages at 
the fertile though desolate island of Juan Fernandez, 
with this inconsiderable force he kept the whole coast 
of Mexico and Peru in continual alarm for eight months, 
made some considerable prizes, and with great conduct 
and resolution took possession of the town of Paita, 
which however hQ afterwards sacked and burned. The 
humane conduct of Anson to his prisoners, made an in- 
delible impression on the minds of the Spaniards ; and 
he became at once the object of their terror and re- 
spect. 

At length, having lost all his other ships, with the 
Centurion alone he traversed the immense Pacific Ocean: 
and in the course of this long navigation his crew was so 
much further reduced, that with the utmost dliEculty 
he reached the isle of Tinian; which had been deserted 
bj the Spaniards a little before, and is described in the 
history of this voyage as a terrestrial elysium. Amidst 
the happy sequestered groves of this delightful spot, 
he refreshed his crew, and fitted them for fresh enter- 
pti7.es. — But an accident happened here, which nearly 
put an end to his iKteiesting voyage, "The anchorage 
being but indifferent^ on the coast, and a furious storm 
arising, the Centurion was driven out to sea with only 
a few haids on board, and it was nineteen days before the 
Jiarassed crew tould regain their station. Their compa* 
nions on shore, indeed, had given them up for lost; 
and this may be considered as one of the most miracu- 
lous escapes, in an expedition which was pregnant with 
disa-^ters as well as v/ondt-rful turns of good fortune. 

About the middle of October 174"2, the commodore 
again put to sea, and after a variety of adventures ar- 
rived at Macao in China ; where he resisted the exactions 
of that mercenary people, with a spirit that did honour 
to his sovereign and the British flag. 

Here the Centurion being completely refitted, Anson, 
concealing his design, steered back as far as the Philip- 



LORD AN-so:^. 341 

pine islands, with a view of intercepting the annual 
Acapulco ships ; and in this respect fortune at last was 
propitious to him. 

After encountering a series of disasters, in a voyage 
of nearly three years, relieved only by gleams of par- 
tial success, on the 20th of June 174-3 one of the wished- 
for ships was descried : and after a vigorous contest, iin 
which British spirit and conduct prevailed ever numbers 
jind strength, the prize v/as carried, and considerably 
upwards of half a million sterling was the reward o£ 
victory. He now proceeded to Canton; where having 
put the treasure on board his own ship, he disposed of 
the Spaniiu-ds and their galleon, and directed his coui :>e 
to England. 

No occurrence particularly memorable attended his 
voyage, till he entered the Channel ; but here he had 
another proof of that providential care which had 
rescued him from so many antecedent perils : for a 
French fleet was cruizing in this latitude ; and he pass- 
ed through the midst of it, unnoticed, in a fog. la 
short, during his circumnavigation of the globe, which? 
took up a period cf three years and nine months, he re- 
peatedly confirmed by his own experience and conduct 
the policy of ihe maxim Nil desptraadum (tliat " nothing 
is to be despaired of ^') ; which he afterwards assumed 
as his motto. 

The treasure taken by the Centurion was conveyed 
in a number of waggons, decorated with Spanish iiags,. 
through the streets of London to tlie Tovv'er, amidst the 
loudest acclamations of the populace ; and the commo- 
dore was loaded with honours and congratulation. 

After this, Anson rapidly rose to the highest ranks in 
his profession, was returned to parliament, and made 
one of the lords of the admiralty. In 1747) being ap- 
pointed to the command of a squadron, he had the good 
fortune to fall in with a French fleet off Cape Finlsterre ; - 
and notvC'ithstauding a spirited resistance on the part of 
8 



S42 LORD ANSON. 

the enemy, took six men-of-war, and four of the India- 
m^n which they were convoying. The elegant compli- - 
ment which M. de la Jonquiere, the French admiral, 
paid the victor on presenting his sword, deserves tQ be 
remembered. Pointing to two of his ships, whose names- 
gave beauty and force to the expression, he said, " Sir, 
you have vanquished the Invincible, and Glory follows 
you.*' 

It has long been a v;ise policy, to confer peculiar dis- 
tinctions on those naval heroes who have successfully 
supported the glory of the British flag. To a man of 
honour who devotes his life to maritime or military pur- 
suits, pecimiary gratification is but a secondary object ; 
he toils for celebrity, and it should be paid him with no> 
sparing hand. This gallant officer, as a reward of his 
merit, received a peerage, by the title of lord Anson,, 
fearon of Soberton in Hants ; and the same year suc- 
ceeded to the high rank of vice-admiral of England- 
He had likewise the honour to be selected to convoy 
king George the Second to and from the continent oa 
several occasions ; and when our present excellent queen 
was chosen to grace the throne, lord Anson was ap-^ 
pointed to conduct her majesty to England. 

In 1751, his. lordship had been made firs: lord of th^' 
admiralty I a post which he was excellently qualified 
to fill, being a capital judge of merit ; and which he 
held, with little intermission, to the time of his death. 
His services by sea however were not discontinued when 
his country required his bravery and skill. In 1758 he 
sailed from Spithead with a formidable fleet, having 
under his command the gallant sir Edward Hawke ;. 
aind materially contributed to facilitate the descents 
made at St. Malo's, and other places on the enemy's 
coast. At last he was appointed admiral and comman- 
der-in-chief of his majesty's fleets, and his professional 
honours could rise no higher. 

The fatigues incident to a. seafaring life had gradu*- 



LORD ANSON. S43 

■d]]y iinJern7ined his lordship'^s constitution : and tor 
iiiimy mnntlis before his death, he had been in a very 
languishing state of heaUh. At last he found busi- 
ness insupportable, and company too fatii^uing to his 
spirits ; and retired to his scat at Moor-park in Hert- 
fordshire, where he died suddenly without any actual 
continement to his room or his bed. . His lordship mar- 
rled the honourable miss Yorke, eldest daughter of the 
earl of Hardwicke, lord-high-chanceilor of Great Bri- 
tain ; but left no children, and thus the title became 'ex- 
tinct. 

As an officer, lord Anson was distincrnished for in- 
flexible perseverance; and a command of temper which 
rendered him intrepid in the midst of danger, and sedate- 
•in every change of fortune. In private life he was ho- 
nest and unsuspecting, and thus became the dupe^ of 
garriblers and sharpers. An unfortunate attachment to : 
gaming, the dishonest tricks of which he did not under- 
stand, and had too much integrity to practise, exposed 
him to losses and misfortunes v/hich greatly diminished'^ 
liis dear- earned wealth, and made him the ridicule of 
hi^ more cunning associates. It was often remarked of 
him, ^- that he had been r:unJ the world, but never irr 
it." He was too sincere to be fashionably polished, too 
ingenuous to profess what he did not feel ; the artful 
preyed on his siiripliclty, and the conqueror of his ene- 
mies was frequently vanquished by his pretended 
friends. 

When the baneful infatuation of play gains an ascen- 
dancy over the mind of a good man, he is in the direct 
road to ruin ; when it seizes the unprincipled, he soon 
becomes a finished villain. Harsh as the term may 
seem, that man is the worst of villains, who by his su- 
perior skill in an art where honour and virtue would 
scorn proficiency, practises on the unsuspecting, involve^ 
the helpless and innocent in distress, and braves the de- 



S44 EARL OF HARDWICKE. 

tection of the honest, by the plunder whkh he has ac- 
quired. , 

There are two vices which, when they have once laid 
full hold upon the heart, seem not only to be incurable, 
but to ga-n strength with years. These are the love of 
gaming, and the love of wine ; the epitome of all ills^ 
the aggregate of infemy and ruin. 

May these serious reflections have the efFect which is 
intended on the youthful and uncorrupted breast ! If 
only one is warned by them to avoid these two greiit 
destroyers of fortune and of fame, of health and peace, 
this well-meant page will not have been penned in 
vain. 



PHILIP YORKE, 

EARL OF HARDWICKE, 
LORD CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND. 

Born 1691— Died 1764.. 
From 2d IViilJam III, to ^th George IIL 

THAT the law, above all other professions, opens 
a scene for the display of superior abilities, has been 
remarked on a former occasion. That its practice, how- 
ever, sometimes cramps the energies of independance, 
and leads the ambitious to sacrifice the love of virtue tQ 
the love of gain, is also to be lamented, but cannot be 
denied. The study of the legal science naturally teaches 
prudence and reflection : it forbids the mind to pursue 
the blandishments of fancy, and fixes it in the empire 
of reason. Reason recommends what is expedient, ra- 
tlier than what is right ; and its decisions are commonly 
proper, though the motives which influence them may 
not always be pure. These observations, however, are 
not to be taken in their utmost latitude j as they have 



EARL OF HARDWICKE. 345 

uo particular application to the distinguished subject of, 
the following memoirs. 

Philip Yorke was born In London, of a respectable 
rather than an opulent family ; but whatever might be 
the rank or situation of his ancestors, his own merit cer- 
"ilnly paved the way to what he afterwards became, 
This is the highest praise that can be paid to his memo- 
ry, that he rose to distinction by his talents alone ; and 
thus reflected honour on the patronage which he ac- 
quired, and the titles which he transmitted to his poste* 
rity. 

His education must have been well conducted, but 
he unquestionably owed more to genius and application ; 
without w^hich, opportunities of improvement are of 
little avail. Being designed for an attorney, at a pro- 
per age he was articled to a gentleman eminent in that 
branch of the profession, and served his clerkship with 
credit : but he felt that he was not in his element, when 
confined to the drudgery of an office; and was no sooner 
his own master, than he entered himself of the society 
of Lincoln's-inn. 

In due time he v/as called to the bar ; and w^hile a 
very young man acquired such high reputation as a 
pleader, that in 1720 he was raised tD the office of so- 
licitor-general. In three years more he became attor* 
ney-general ; ' and in this capacity, which frequently 
admits and requires the utmost extent of legal know- 
ledge, he displayed an astonishing eloquence, a profound 
and intimate acquaintance with English jurisprudence, 
and was universally allowed to be the first lawyer of his 
day. 

Thus gifted, and placed in a situation where full scope 
was given to his powers, and their exercise could not 
be unnoticed, it is not extraordinary that his subse- 
quent elevation was rapid. When no more than forty- 
two years of age, he was appointed chief-justice of the 
court cf Kino-'s-bench ; and four rears afterwards at- 



346 EARL OF HARDWICKE. 

talned the highest rank that the Liw can confer on her 
most distinguished votaries, by being raised to tke sit- 
preme seat of equity. 

For the dignihed office of ;hird-chanceilor, it was 
universally allowed at the time, that the kingdom could 
not furnish a more proper person. His elevation tliere- 
fore was fre.e from envy ; it was even acceptable to his 
brethren at the bar. The title of baron Hardv/icke 
was conferred on him at the same time, and the nation 
re-echoed the approbation of their sovereign^ 

To detail the various instances of assiduity, and the 
very impartial administration of justice, conspicuous in 
this great lawyer for the long period of twenty years^ 
during which he held the seals, would be here impose 
sible. The equality of his temper, the strength of his 
judgment, and his intuitive sagacity, were alike con.- 
fessed and admired. 

WlijCn the noble but infatuated partizans. of rebellioa 
in Scotland were brought to trial, Hardwicke was ap- 
pointed lord-high-steward of England. This farnisheii 
him with a fresh opportunity of displaying his consum- 
niate powers of oratory ; and the speech which he deli- 
vered when passing servtence on the rebel lords, is de- 
servedly ranked among the finest specimens of elo- 
quence that modern times have produced. 

In 1754' the chancellor was raised to the dignity of - 
earl ; but two years after, when tiie illustrious William 
Pitt (afterwards earl of Chatham) was called to the 
helm of government, his lordship v/as obliged to resign^ 
That great statesman, however he might respect lord 
Hardwlcke^s legal abilities, considered him as a weak 
politician : and besides, he was aware of his influence 
in the cabinet ; which in numerous; instances had rather 
been exerted to aggrandize his own family or particular 
friends, than directed to the public welfare. It was 
lord Hardwicke'S object to strengthen his own interest, 
and to advance the fortunes of his counections ; andke 
I 



EARL OF HARDWICKE. 347 

seems to have iidopted a common bat mistaken policy, 
of recommending weak and ill-qualllied persons to fill 
important places, that they might be more subservient 
to his control. This stratagem may be serviceable for 
a moment, but proves delusive in tlie end. A man of 
talents will feel the tie of honour and of gratitude, with 
a force which ignoble and uncultivated minds can never 
know. Abilities reHect back the credit of patronage, 
but ignorance and incapacity are the shame of their sup. 
porters. 

After his resignation, the earl of Hardwicke retired 
■from public life ; but he did not long enjoy the calm of 
ease. In 1764 he was called to pay the debt of nature; 
and (what must have given consolation to his departing 
hours) he was able to declare on his death-bed, " that 
he had never wronged any man to increase his fortune; 
nor acquired a single acre of land v/hich he could not, 
in his last moments, reflect upon with tranquillity." 
To feel the consciousness of integrity when sublunary 
joys are failing, is the sweetest satisfaction ; and to en- 
sure it, should be the first study of life. 

That lord Hardwicke was both an able and an up- 
right judge, admdts of no dispute. Though many ap- 
peals were brought to the House of Lords from his de- 
crees, not one of them was reversed. That he was a 
most eloquent speaker, and a good man, liis worst ene- 
mies are ready to confess. The great stain on his pri- 
vate character was a mercenary and craving disposition. 
To provide for a family which he had raised to the most 
honoiirable distinction, was not only fair but praise- 
worthy ; yet to direct every favour which his interest 
could command into one channel, though it may be 
palliated, cannot be excused. It is said that his royal 
master, who had been abundantly generous and indul- 
gent to him, at last gave him a severe check when he 
found that his reiterated applications had only one ob- 
ject m view. A man of elevated rank, and extensive 



348 EARL OF HARDWICKE. 

influence, should be the patron of unprotected ivorth, 
though unconnected with himself by natural ties ; nor 
suffer either partiality or prejudice to bias his judgment, 
and intercept his bounty. 

As a politician, lord Hardwicke was unfortimate in 
his prepossessions, and very confined in his principles. 
He opposed the militia-bill, on the futile grounds of 
danger in arming the people ; and even when it had 
passed into a lav/, he is said to have exerted himself 
wherever he had influence, to prevent its effect. He 
also had a principal share in promoting the existing 
marriage-act ; which, though not wholly dekitate of 
utility, is supposed to militate against those leading 
principles that have ever been the guide of free com- 
munities. To encourage matrimony is to encourage 
virtue, and consequently adds to the stability of go- 
vernments ; to clog it with restraints v^hich have a ten- 
dency to violate the strongest affections of the heart, 
may soothe the pride of unimpassioned avarice, but can 
neither increase domestic happiness nor public sec^urity. 
In a word, lord Hardwicke was ratlier a great liwyer 
than a great man. Had he shunned the region of poli- 
tics, his fame w^ould have raised him above almost 
-every person of his age: but his views were too limited 
for a statesman ; and almost every measure in which 
he engaged^ rendered him unpopular, or evinced his 
narrow prejudices. Yet let us not detract from his 
real merits. Universal excellence is not an attribute 
of man. The illustrious qualities which he possessed 
and practised for many years, at the bar and on the 
bench, justify his claim to the gratitude of English- 
men, as a shining ornament of his country. 



( 349 ) 
SIR JOHN, BARNARD. 

Born 1635 — Died 1766. 
From 1st James //., to 6fh George III* 

UTILITY is not confined to particular pursuits, 
nor are worth and merit the pecuhar growth of any 
soil. Many pillars of our country have been reared 
on a plebeian base ; while numbers have been found 
prouder to erect trophies of their own, than to boast 
the reHoctcd honours of ancestry. In every station 
laurels may be earned, and a solid reputation may be 
acquired. In the senate, at the bar, in the pulpit cr 
the school, \n the lield or on the ocean, in mercantile 
engagements or mechanical pursuits, in the peaceful 
shade of philosophic retirement, nay, even in the in- 
ferior occupations of agriculture apd the arts, a man 
may be honourably and usefully employed, and dis- 
charge his duty to his conscience and his country. 

To confine the praise of merit to a particular rank 
or profession, denotes a narrow and an illiberal mind. 
Superior worth sometim.es shines forth at once with 
every advantage that fortune can bestow, while at other 
times it surmounts the impediments of situation by its 
native strength : thus it diffused a glory round the 
head of Barnard. 

This upright and patriotic citizen was born at Read- 
ing in Berkshire. His parents belonged to the re- 
spectable society of quakers, and he was educated at 
one of their seminaries ; but it is said that he derived 
very little benefit from early Instruction, in classical 
'and polite literature. This deficiency, however, his 
native good sense, and love of knowledge, induced him 
to supply by such auxiliaries as afterwards fell within 
his reach. Translations gave him an intimate ac- 



S3Q nR JOHN BARNARD. 

<]iiamtance with the substance of ancient leamhig, and 
thus lie became eTctremely well informed in books. 

Being inquisitive and penetrating, he sought for truth 
unbiassed by early prejudices ; and quitting the society- 1 
of quakers when very young, received baptism from ^ 
the hands of Compton bishop of London, in Fulliam 
chapel. 

His father carried on the business of a wine-mer- 
chant ; and by him he was brought up to the same 
trade, in which he afterv/ards successfully engaged on 
his own account In the city of London. 

His abilities, his general knowledge, and the integrity 
of his conduct, soon rendered him conspicuous among 
his fellow-citizens ; and such was the opinion which 
they entertained of him, that he was qlected one of 
their representatives In the year 1722. Li this honour- 
able situation he remained during seven successive par- 
liaments : and amidst all the revolutions that took 
place both in city and' public politics, was so firmly 
-established In the esteem of his constituents, that his 
name always appeared at the head of the list in every 
new election ; and with whatever opposition others had 
to contend, none of any consequence was ever attempt- 
ed against this favourite member. Indeed the zeal, 
the diligence, and the capacity, which he displayed in 
the discharge of this Important trust, were so eminent, 
as to merit and receive unqualified applause ; and he is 
justly considered as one of the most spirited, able, and 
independent characters, ever delegated to the House of 
Commons by tlie metropolis of the British empire. 

The senate was the point of view in which he parti- 
cularly shone, and his conduct here laid the foundation 
of his fame. His judgment might be erroneous, but 
his vote, was always honest. If he was generally in 
opposition to the ministry, it was not from the love of 
dissent, or from ari interested view of supplanting them 



SIR JOHN BARNARD. 351 

in oflice ; but from the purest conviction that their pro- 
ceedings militated against the public welfare, or the 
individual interests of that great commercial city which 
he represented. 

When a bill was brought into parliament, in 1725, 
** for regulating elections within the city of London ; 
and for preserving the peace, good order, and govern- 
ment, of the said city ;" Barnard strenuously opposed 
it, as an infringement of the city's rights, and contrary 
to its charter ; particularly in depriving numbers of 
their elective franchise, which tliey had enjoyed from 
time immemorial. 

The citizens were heard by counsel at the bar of the 
house. Crowds, who thought themselves injured or af- 
fected by the clauses of this bill, tumultuously assem- 
bled every day at Westminster ; their complaints were 
loud and menacing, and government thought it neces- 
sary to double the guards. After much opposition, 
however, the bill passed, with various modifications ; 
and sir John Barnard received thanks from the court 
of common council, for the active part which he had 
taken in asserting the liberties of his fellow-citizens. 

Not long after, tliis virtuous representative wak 
chosen alderman of Dowgate ward; and omitted no 
opportunity, in his double capacity^ of magistrate and 
senator, to promote the honour and welfare of the me- 
tropolis, and indeed of the whole empire. He prepared 
a bill, in 1729, for the better encouragement and regu- 
lation of sailors in the merchant-service ; which he 
carried through the house with great credit. The 
same session gave also a signal proof of his humane 
and benevolent disposition, in exerting himself to re- 
dress the scandalous enormities that had been commit- 
ted in the Fleet and other prisons ; in the former of 
which the warden had dared to put several of the un- 
fortunate debtors in irons, ^nd by his gross venality 
had suffered otliers to escape. The indignatiom of our 



352 SIR JOHN BARNARD. 

-worthy citizen was upon this roused to the highest pitch* 
He made a pathetic representation to the house, of the 
various abuses which he had detected in that prison ; and 
was not only instrumental in bringing the iniquitous 
warden and his agents to justice, but also in procuring 
an act of insolvency, and in framing such regulations 
as would prevent arbitrary and illegal practices by the 
keepers in future. 

When sir Robert Walpole proposed his famous ex- 
cise scheme in 1733, the attention of every member 
who wished well to the liberties of the subject was 
called to a measure which, however advantageous in a 
iinancial point of view, certainly appeared fraught 
with the most dangerous consequences to the genuine 
principles of our constitution. Sir John Barnard took 
a leading part in the spirited debate which was main^ 
tained on this bill. He contended that the project 
would deprive a number of persons of their ancient 
•birthright, the trial by jury, the last unimpaired privi-. 
lege that remained to Englishmen ; that though his 
majesty should never make a bad use of the power in- 
tended to be given him, his successors might ; and that 
a slave who has the good fortune to meet with a hu- 
mane master, is nevertheless a slave. ** Our liberties 
are too valuable," added he, " and were purchased at 
too dear a prke^ to be sported w^Ith, or wantonly given 
-up even to the best of kings. I hope we have the same 
.regard for them that our ancestors had ; and if so, we 
shall certainly use ail peaceable means to preserve 
them. If, however, such should prove ineffectual, I 
trust xhew is no Englishman but would use those me- 
thods his ancestors have used, in transmitting his liber- 
ties to his posterity in the same glorious condition he 
found tliem. in ; and not sacrifice the constitution to the 
4>oor pretence of suppressing a few frauds in the collec- 
tion of the public revenue." 

While this business was in agitation, jthe avenues tt» 



SIR JOHN BARNARD. S53 

the house of commons were filled with multitudes of peo- 
ple: the ministerial members were grossly insulted: and 
sir Robert Walpole himself, in a paroxysm of passion (to 
which, however, he was little subject), having applied 
the term " sturdy beggars'' to the clamorous petition- 
ers at the door, met with a very severe retort from sir 
John Barnard ; and was only saved from the fury of 
the mob by the resolution of a friend, who protected 
him with a drawn sword. 

So obnoxious was this scheme to the great body of 
the people, and so jealous had they now become of any 
encroachment on their liberties, that ministers thought 
proper to abandon it at that time ; on which event 
public rejoicings took place, as if some signal victory 
had been gained over a foreign enemy. 

Sir John Barnard had acquired such reputation as a 
public speaker, and such influence from the tried Inte- 
grity and independance of his character, that he was 
ahvays heard with respect, and his plans for the public 
good were frequently adopted.. Though he gained the 
greatest share of his popularity in opposing some fa- 
vourite plans of the minister; yet he was as ready to sup- 
port him whenever his conscience and a sense of duty 
would permit. Being attached to no party, but a zea- 
lous friend to constitutional liberty and the interests of 
his country, his vote was always the free oiFerlng of a 
virtuous mind ; and the part which he took in public 
affairs, was stained with no bias to sinister views of pri- 
vate interest. He boldly contended for settling such 
an annual income on Frederic prince of Wales, as 
would render him independant of the minister ; and 
declared his opinion that the heir-apparent, or any other 
-prince of the royal family, ought to have such a certain 
revenue as was consistent with his own dignity and that 
of the nation. He was likewise very instrumental in 
lowering the interest of the pv.bllc debt, by taking ad- 

a2 



S54 SIR JOHN BARNARD. 

vantage of the facility with which money might be 
raised, without the smallest violation of public credit. 

To particularize every patriotic effort of this distin- 
guished citizen, however useful his example might be 
to such as aspire to the honours which he received, 
would extend this article too far. In the year 1738 he 
served the office of lord-mayor ; and discharged the 
duties of this important station with the same assiduity, 
firmness, and impartiality, which had marked his 
former life. As a magistrate, indeed, his conduct was 
a perfect model for imitation. He was governor of 
several hospitals and other public charities ; and was 
ever vigilant, active, and disinterested, in the discharge 
of those important trusts. In 1749 he became father 
of the city; but at length the infirmities of age si\s- 
pended his honourable and useful services. He re- 
quested leave to resign his alderman's gown. The so- 
lemn thanks given him by the city of London on this 
occasion, were the best testimony of his merit, and will 
remain a lasting eulogy on his character. Among 
other qualities becoming a magistrate and a man, he 
was thanked " for his wise, vigilant, and impartial ad- 
ministration of justice ; his unwearied zeal for the ho- 
nour, safety, and prosperity, of his fellow-citizens ; his 
inviolable attachment to the laws and liberties of his 
country ; and for the noble example which he had set, 
of a long and uninterrupted course of virtue, in private 
as well as public life/' 

With this enviable character sir John Barnard retired 
to his country-seat at Clapham ; where he expired full 
of days and honour, in. the el^p-hty-fifth year of his age. 
As a further proof of the high sense which his fellow- 
citizens entertained of his signal services, his statue was 
erected in his lifetime on the Royal Exchange, in his 
robes of magistracy* 



( 355 ) 
GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON, 

Born 1708— Died 1773. 
From 6th Jnnfy to l^th George III. 

Wealth, power, and titles, — pageants of a day, 
Ungrac'd with merit, shed a feeble ray. 
Soon sinks ihe fame not rais'd on true desert. 
And all the praise that lives not in the heart ; 
\ Soon sinks the pride from ancestry that flovv^s :— ' 
The splendid villains are but public shows ; 
Awhile they blaze, and catch the simple eye ; 
Then melt in air like meteors in the sky. 
Not thus nobility with worth conjoin'd. 
Us lustre spreads, and leaves a track behind, 
llie gifts of fortune, in a good man*s power. 
Are but the needy wretches certain dower ; 
They raise the languid, wipe affliction's tear ; 
To some give fame, in Lyttelton endear. 

THIS illustrious and excellent man was descended 
from a very ancient family which had been seated for 
centurFes in^ Worcestershire 5 and which had produced 
several distinguished characters at different periods, 
and among others judge Lyttelton, vrho flourished in 
the reign of Henry the Fourth. He was the eldest 
ton of sir Thomas Lyttelton, by a sister of lord vis- 
count Cobham : and was born at Hagley ; which he 
found, when he came to his inheritance, prejxired by 
nature for the elysium to which his delicate taste con- 
verted it. 

His birth is said to have been premature, and in con- 
sequence he was with difficulty reared. Gradually 
however gaining a tolerable strength of constitution, 
he was sent tjo Eton school : where he soon attracted 
the notice of his masters, by the superior manner in 
which his exercises were finished;- and early discovered 
a taste for the beauties of poetical composition, an ai- 



356 LORD LYTTELTON. 

most infallible mark of a refined and elegant mind. 
At that seminary he wrote his pastorals, and some 
other pieces ; which would have given him a consider- 
able rank in the train of the muses, independantly cf 
those advantages to which he was born, and which set 
off his natural endowments in the most conspicuous 
light. 

Having removed to Christchurch college, Oxford, 
-iie pursued his academical studies with unusual avidity, 
and with a success correspondent to his application. 
Not satisfied with the mere performance of what was 
expected from him, his genius prompted him to court 
fame as 3 writer : and his " Blenheim," if it did not 
much enhance his reputation as a poet among real judges, 
yet, from the popularity of the subject, and the great 
man who was the hero of it, rendered him more gene- 
rally admired. At the university too he sketched his 
Persian Letters, one of the most original of all his 
works ; and which for purity of language, and the 
knowledge of life and manners which it display?, has 
gained him a permanent reputation. It may be con-* 
sidered as a classical English production, and will al- 
ways be read with improvement and delight. 

After a short stay at Oxford, he commenced his 
travels. At Paris he became acquainted with the Bri- 
tish ambassador, Mr. Poyntz : who was so struck wit^ 
the uncommon capacity of Lyttelton, that he warmly 
patronised him ; and employed him in some political - 
negotiations, which he dispatched in such a manner as 
confirmed the high opinion that had been formed of 
bis talents and his address. 

When lie set out en his travels, he hid formed a pro- 
per estimate of the useful purposes to which they 
might be applied ; and he determined to derive from 
them all the benefit and improvement which an extensive 
intercourse with mankind is capable of conferring. He 
did not post through a country like a courier, nor did 



LORD LYTTELTON. 3&T 

he indulge in the disslpatic^n or frivolities of the people 
among whom he stopped* On the contrary, he asso- 
ciated only with men of rank, in the political or literary 
vorld, from whom he enlarged the stores of his mind ;, 
or, by observation ajnd inquiry, traced the advantages- 
and defects of public institutions, or the various modes 
of private life. In order to connect him more strongly 
with tlie country which was still dearest to him, and in 
which he had left some valuable friends, he kept up a. 
regular private conespondence ; and a poetical CHie iiii 
two epistles to Dr. Ayscough and Mr. Pope. 

Under the friendly and affectionate auspices of Mr. 
Poyntz, who seems to have loved him as a son, he re- 
mained som.e time at Paris. At Turin he was received 
i-n the most condescending and fLitterkig manner by 
his Sardinian majesty. In the capital towns of Itahv 
particularly at Rome, he applied himself to tlie study 
of the fine arts ; and such were the correctness and 
the purity of his taste, that he was justly esteemed an 
excellent coBHoisseur though so young a man.- 

His letters to his father, during his travels, which 
are still extant, evince his filial piety, and are models 
of dutiful affection.. This point of character should 
not be overlooked ; it stamps the amiable bias of his 
soul. He who is deficient in duty to his parents, may 
jDssess great, but can never be entitled to the praise of 
good qualities. He is not formed to relish the most 
solid satisfaction ; he can neither be perfectly happy 
himself, nor communicate happiness to others. - • • 

Returning to his native country in the possession of, 
the most valuable attainments, he obtained a seat in- 
parlraraent for the borough of Okehampton, and soon 
entered the lists of opposition against sir Robert Wal- 
pole. His abilities as a public speaker were very con- 
siderable, and he was not averse to display his talents ; 
no important debate arose in which he did not take a. 
^hare. As he had joined w^hat was called the patriotic 



'^58 LORD LYTTELTON. 

party- (though true patriotism certainly allows no 
party-spirit), he was "soon introduced to the favour of 
Frederic prince of Wales; and in the year 1737 be- 
came principal secretary to his royal highness, in which 
capacity he served him with integrity and zeal. 

But though he was now confessedly a politician, the 
brilliancy of his clissical genius was not obscured. In- 
deed he had now a fresh cause of inspiration. Miss 
Lucy Fortescue, a young lady of uncommon beauty 
and merit, had taught him to feel the tenderest senti- 
ments of love ; and he breathed his attachment to her 
in some of the most delicate and elegant verses that 
ever poet penned to his mistress. The amiableness of 
his own disposition gave him the sincerest regard for 
similar qualities in others; and in the year 1742 he 
was united to the object of his fondest affection. As 
no cold suggestions of interest had joined them, their 
conjugal felicity was uninterrupted till the moment 
when it was closed for ever. In four short years, his 
lady, who-^was a model of domestic virtue, was called 
to another world ; leaving him with an infant son and 
daughter, the pledges of their mutual affection. The 
grief which Mr. Lyttelton felt on this occasion^ was 
tqual to the loss he had sustained. His beautiful mo- 
nody to the memory of his lady will perpetuate iber 
name and Jiis own conjugal affection : it is one of the 
ttiost pathetic pieces in our language. The following 
inscription on her tomb in the church of Hagley was 
also a tribute of his ardent love. It paints a woman 
of fashion as she ought to be. Jt delineates a charac« , 
ter, which must be admired and loved wherever it is 
knowii. Happy the wife who deserves it; happy, 
thrice happy, the husband who can apply it to the part- 
ner of his life ! 

Made to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes ; 
Though meek, magaanimous; though witty, vme : 



£OR'D Lyttelton. S5B 

Polite, as all her Kfe in courts had been ; 
Yet good, as she the world had never seen; 
The noble fire of an exalted mind, 
. With gentlest female tenderness combin*d : 
Her speech was the melodious voice of Love, 
Her song the warbiing of the vernal grove; 
Her eloquence was sweeter than her song. 
Soft as her heart, and as her reason strong;. 
Her form each beauty of her mindexpress'd, ^ 

Her mind was Virtue by the Graces diess'd. 

Two years before this lamented separation, Mr. Lyt- 
tekon had been appointed one of the lords of the trea- 
sury ; and, inspired with the flame of genius himself, 
he no sooner possessed the power, than he became the 
patron of genius in others. Fielding, Thomson, Mallet, 
Young, Hammond, West, and Pope, either tasted his 
bounty, or were horioured by his countenance. His ge- 
nerous regard to Thomson did not die with the object 
of it. He revised his- orphan tragedy of Coriolanus for 
the benefit of the deceased poet's relations ; and wrote 
^ch an aifecting prologue, that the celebrated Quii> 
barst into tears as he reciced it, while the audience^ 
melted in sympathetic feeling with the actor. 

But though L.}^telton had now become a public man 
and a patron, he did not suffer the avocations of busi- 
ness, or the increase of favour,, to lure him front; more 
serious concerns. In the sprightliness of juvenile con- 
fidence, in the vanity of conceit and aifectation, he had 
been led away by doubts, respecting the authenticity of 
Puevelation ; he felt the pangs of uncertainty on such a 
momentous subject; he diligently applied himself to 
" search the Scriptures ;'' and, in the result, their in- 
ternal evidence afforded to his honest and. unprejudiced 
mind a firm conviction ©f their truth,. 

Being anxious to remove from others that veil which. 
had dimmed his own prospects, he publislied, soon af- 
ter the death of his lady,. " Observations on the Con- 
Tersioa and Apostleship of St. Paul" T|ie incidents 
a 5 



36rO LORD LYTTEl/rON. 

attending this part of Scripture history had appeared 
so striking, as to effect his entire conversion to the belief 
of Christianity 3 and infidellty^itself has never been able 
to fabricate even a specious reply to his judicious and able 
defence of our holy religion. It had the happiest effect 
on the times in which it was produced ; and as often as 
it is read vinth seriousness and candour, it will either 
convince or confound the sceptic. 

Notwithstanding the violence of Lyttelton's giief for 
the loss of his lady, he judged it expedient to eiiter 
again into the state of matrimony ; and he fixed on a 
daughter of sir Robert Rich. In the heart that has 
once loved tenderly and truly, perhaps the whole en- 
thusiasm of affection can never be a second time re^ 
newed ; and wedlock, even when contracted under the 
happiest omens, is so much influenced by minute cir- 
cumstances, by temper, habit, and a congenial or con- 
tradictory disposition, that it need not be wondered at if 
his second union did not produce all the felicity wliich 
he had once tasted, and w^hich he fondly hoped again to 
enjoy. 

In 1751, on his father's death, he succeeded to the ba- 
ronetage, and the family estate at Hagley.. The latter 
he did not augment, but was careful to adorn : and by 
his judicious and elegant taste he made it oae of the 
most delightful spots in the kingdom. 

By a diligent discharge of his parliamentary duty, and 
powers of eloquence which commanded attention, he 
gradually rose to son^e of the highest offices of the state. 
When a violent clamour was raided against the bill 
which had been passed for the naturalization of the 
Jews, I^yttelton made a speech- in favour of its repeal^ 
which for elegance and spirit, propriety of sentiment^ 
and soundness of principle, may be thought a rival to 
the purest models of antiquity, and certainly equals any 
thing that modern times have produced. 
' After reprobating th^ arguments which had been 



LORD LYTTELTON. ^^ 

urged against the existiixg bill, he considered its probable 
'effects in the present temper of the nation ; ably discri- 
minated between steadiness in essentials, and a compli- 
ance w-ith harmless though perhaps mistaken opinions ;. 
and gave unanswerable reasons for the simple repeal of 
the act, beyond which he thought all concession to 
popular clamour would be weak and dangerous in the 
extreme. " It would open,'* said the animated orator, 
'' a door to the wildest enthusiasm, and the most mis- 
chievous attacks of political disaffection working on that 
enthusiasm. If you encourage and authorize it to fall- 
on the synagogue, it will go from thence to the meet- 
ing-houses, and in the end to the palace. The more- 
zealous we are to support Christianity, the more vigilant 
should we be in maintaining toleration. If we bring 
back persecution, we bring back the antichristian spirit 
of popery : and when. the spirit is here, the whole system, 
will soon follow. Toleration is the basis of all public 
quiet. It is a character of freedom given to the mind, 
more valuable, 1 think, than that which secures oar per- 
sons and estates. Indeed, they are inseparably connected, 
together ; for where the mind is not free, wherethe con- 
science is enthralled, there is no freedom." 

Such distinguished abilities, accompanied by the best- 
virtues of the heart, might be supposed to have perpe-- 
tuated the political influence of Lyttelton : but litera- 
ture engrossed most of his attention ; and he w^as more ' 
anxious to discover moral truth, than to guard against. 
political intrigue. At mtervals he favoured the worldi 
with his celebrated " Dialogues of the Dead," and-his- 
elaborate " History of Henry the Second ;" thus di- 
viding his time between the duties of his public func- 
tions, the pursuits of elegant literature, and the society 
of the learned and the great : till a change of niinistry 
taking place in the year 1757vhe was raised to a peerage,, 
and retired from the agitation of -state affairs. From^ 
^hat period, lord Lyttelton was only known as a states- 



362 LORD LVTTiLTO^Sr^ 

man by occasional speeches in his parliamentary capa- 
city : he lived chiefly at his beautiful seat of Hagley, 
endeared to his neighbours and to mankind by the exer- 
cise of every humane quality, and the practice of every 
virtue. 

Lord Lyttelton had never an athletic appearance ; 
his frame was slender, and his face meagre and pale. 
Yet he reached the sixty-fourth year of his age, exempt 
from much bodily infirmity ; when he was seized with 
his last illness and resigned his breath witli the hope 
and confidence of immortality. A little Jbefore his de- 
cease, when all hopes of life were extinguished, he thus 
addressed himself to his physician : " Doctor, you shall 
be my confessor. When I first set out in the world, I 
had friends who endeavoured to shake my belief in the 
Christian religion. I saw difficulties which staggered 
me ; but I kept my mind open to conviction. The evi- 
dences and doctrines, of Christianity^ studied with at- 
tention, made me a most firm believer of its truth. I 
have made it the rule oi my life, and it is now the ground 
of my hopes.- — In politics and public life, I have made 
the public good the rule ofmy conduct. I never gave 
counsels which I did not think the best at the time. I 
have seen that I v/as sometimes in the wrong ; but I 
did not err designedly. I have endeavoured, in private 
life, to do all the good in my power; and never for a 
moment could indulge malicious or unjust designs upon 
any person whatsoever.''' 

When the last moment approached, he gave his: 
daughter lady Valentia and her husband, who came to 
.see him, his solemn benediction: adding; " Be ^ood^ 
be virtuous, my- lord ; you' must come to this.'' In 
short, his dying scene was the best comment on a well- 
spent life ; it evinced unaffected magnanimity, pious 
resignation, and Christian hope. To the last, his under- 
standing was unimpaired; his closing hour exhibiting 
til'* brightest pattern of the Glu-istian's triumph over 



EARL OF CHATHAM- 365 

death. Whoever copies this virtuous and amiable ex« 
ample, can with well-founded hope exclaim, " Oh, may 
my last end be like his V' 



WILLIAM PITT, 



EARL QF CHATHAM. 

Born 1707— Died 1778. 
From 5th Q^. Anne^ to ISth Geo. III. 

" I DID not intend to make a public declaration of 
the respect I bear lord Chatham ; but I am called upon 
to deliver my opinion, and even the p^n of Junius shall 
contribute to reward him. Recorded honours shall ga- 
ther round his monument, and thicken over him. It 
is a solid fabric, and will support the laurels that adorn 
it. — I am not conversant with the language of panegy* 
ric. These praises are extorted from me; but they will 
wear well, as they have been dearly earned.^' 

Such was the elegant eulogy paid by the celebrated 
Junius to the earl of Chatham, before the curtain had 
dropped on the statesman's labours, and his part in the 
dr^ma was completed. But firmness and consistency 
were his lordship's characteristics ; and from his prior 
life, the above able and penetrating writer might well 
predict that the close would be in unison with it. 

William Pitt, who filled such a wide and honourable 
space in the public eye, whose gleries are still fresh in 
the m^emory of hrs countrymen and of Europe, and- 
whose well-earned fame will endure as long as the na- 
tion which gave him birth, was the soa of Robert Pitt, 
esq. of Boconnock in Cornwall. This family was ori« 
grnally of Dorsetshire, w^ere it had long been respect- 
ably established ; but no ancestors could reflect addi« 
tioaal lustre on a man so truly greats 



364 EAR!/ OF CHATHAM. 



1 



Eton, which has produced so many illustrious names', 
had th£i honour of his^ classical education. Thence he 
was removed to Trinity college, Oxford^ which may 
well be proud of such a pupil :. 



-Nor thou refuse 



4 



This humble present of no partial muse, 

From that cahn bower which nurs*d thy thoughtful youtJfc 

In the pure precepts of Athenian truth ; 

Where first the form of Britis^li Liberty 

Beam'd in full radiance on thy musing eye. 

Whahton. 

Mr. Pitt has left some testimonies of his homage to 
the muses ; and that he possessed a poetic imagina- 
tion, the fervid pathos and imagery of his eloquence 
will place beyond a doubt. General literature, how- 
ever, absorbed his principal attention :. and by a singu- 
lar cormection of causes and effects, what seemed the 
greatest misfortune of his life, very probably led to its 
most exalted splendour. Scarcely had he reached the 
sixteenth year of his age, when he became a martyr ta 
an hereditary gout. A delicacy of constitution^ and 
the restraints which it im. poses, are generally propitious- 
to study and reflection. Pitt had neither taste, n©r 
strength of frame, to engage deep in dissipation ; and 
his genius soared above the vulgar allurements of vici- 
ous pleasure. Pie devoted the leisure and confinement 
©f indisposition to the acquirement of a vast fund of pre- 
mature and useful knowledge ;, which in due time he 
brought forward, at once to astonish and confound. 

After receiving a liberal education, he procured a 
commission as cornet in a regiment of horse i but the 
senate, not the camp, was the scene where he was best 
qualified to shine.. Jlis friends, among whom Sarah- 
duchess of Marlborough was the most zealous, forming' 
a due estimate of his talents, accordingly brought hino; 
into parliament for the borough of Old-Sarum, in^the 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 565 

year 1735; and he early dlstiiigiushed himself m the 
ranks of opposition. 

The minister, sir Robert Walpole, was alarmed 
at the very somid of his voice, and the lightning of 
his eye ; but when he winiessed the impetuous tor- 
rent of his eloquence, he is said to have told his friend?; 
that he should be glad " to muzzle that terrible cornet 
of horse at any rate." Prtt, however, had chosen his 
conduct, and knew his powers. "Being enamoured of 
virtue and public spirit, no military prospects, nor mi- 
nisterial honours, could divert him from the cause 
which he deemed honourable; and when he lost his 
commission in consequence of his spirited behaviour ia 
parliament, Lyttelton paid him the following elegant 
compliment, whidi at the same time conveys a bitter 
ironical sarcasm on the minister : 

Long hadthy virtue marked thee out for fame. 
Far, far superior to a cornet's name. 
This generous Walpole saw : and griev*d to find- 
So meaa a post disgrace that noble mind ; 
The servile standard from thy free-born hand 
He took, ap,d bade thee lead the patriot band. 

Tb particularize every instance of the nervous daz-- 
zling eloquence of Pitt, even during his noviciate^ would 
be to wTite the parliamentary history of several years,. 
In the debate on the bill for registering seamen, whicH 
Mr. Pitt represented as arbitrary and unjust, Mr. Ho- 
ratio Walpole, having sarcastically remarked on his 
youth and animated gesture, met with a cutting retort, 
which if transcribed at full length would afford a spe- 
cimen of that glowing and impassioned language v/hich 
was characteristic of the speaker ; " I will not under-- 
take," said he, ." to determine v/hether youth can justly- 
he imputed to any man as a reproach ; but I will affirm 
that the wretch who, after having seen the consequence 
of repeated errors, continues still to blunder; and whose 



366 EARL OF CHATHAM. 

age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the 
object either of abho'Tcnce or contenipt, and deserves 
not that his grey hairs should secure him from insult* 
Much more is he to be abhorred, who, as he has ad- 
vanced in age, has receded from virtue, and becomes 
more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes him- 
self for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the 
remains of his life in the ruin of his country." 

Frederic prince of Wales, who had long been the 
rallying point of opposition ; and who, consi stently with 
Lis noble sentiments, took men of genius, talents, and 
honesty, under his protection ; appointed Mr. Pitt a 
groom of the bedchamber, which offtce he held till the 
year 174'5 : and for his firm adherence to the patriotic 
side, he experienced about the same time an exalted 
proof, though not the onJy one, of the estimation in 
which he was held by the public. The duchess of Marl- 
borough, who to a masculine understanding united a 
zeal to be distinguished as a politician, having, from 
his first entrance into life, supported Mn Pitt by her 
patronage, now left him a very honourable testimony 
of her regard, in a legacy of ten thousand pounds ;, 
expressly, as she declared, " for defending the latis of 
his country, and warding off its ruin." 

But abilities such as his could not always remain in; 
useless opposition. He was formed to exalt the honour 
of his country, and to direct its councils i and when its. 
affairs w^ere conducted in a manner v/hich enabled him 
tt5' participate in its administration witliout any derelic- 
tion of principle, in 1746 he accepted the office of joint- 
treasurer oi Ireland ; and the Sdme year became trea- 
surer and paymaster of the 'army^ and was sworn a privy- 
counsellor. Birt though now engaged to the court by 
mterest, he did not sacrifice the independanee of his; 
vote to any partial views. He knew the unpopularity" 
attached to conxiaental connections i liis better sense saw^ 



EARL OF CHATHAM. 367 

their destructive tendency ; his patriotism led him to 
oppose them: and in consequence he made a temporary- 
resignation of all his places. 

He did no;, however, remain long unemployed. In 
December 1756 he was appointed secretary of state for 

\ the- southern department, with unbounded public ap- 
plause : but in a short time he discerned that he could 
not be' acceptable to his sovereign without deserting the 
interests of the- people ; and by a man who placed his 
glory in patriotic upright conduct, the choice was easily 
made. The love and confidence of the nation had con- 
tributed to make him what he was : he foresaw that 
these might be alienated by indifference, and might be 
lost by presumption ; but so well was he fixed in the 
public opinion, that he knew it would accompany him 
while he studied by honourable means to retain it. In 
SL short time after his resignation, his hopes were realized ; 
the voice of the people was so loudly expressed in his 
favour, and their affection seemed so strongly riveted 
to his interest, that it was deemed politic to recal him 
ro the cabinet, with a large addition of power. In June 
1757 he was again appointed secretary of state, with 
the full authority of prime minister. His colleagues 
were either men of his owti principles, or wholly subser- 
vient to his more enlarged views. 

The preceding ministry had been both unfortunate 
and unpopular. The war in v/hich the nation had been 
engaged, was carried on without spirit and vrithout 
success. But nasooner was Mr. Pitt placed at the helm, 
than his active genius pervaded every department of the 

^ state ; his spirit animated the whole nation. His plans 
were conceived with ability, and executed with a vigour 
and promptitude that astonished both friends and ene- 
mies. The fortune of the war was changed, and vic« 
tory attended the arms ©f Britain wherever her military 
operations were directed. Europe, Asia, and America, 

felt and acknowledged the influence of this able minis* 



368 EARL OF CHATHAM. 

ter. The French were defeated in every quarter of the 
globe ; their navy, their commerce, and their finances, 
in the period of a very few years, were brought to the 
^erge of ruin. *< Meanwhile,'' to adopt the words of 
an elegant writer, " the glory of Mr. Pitt advanced 
like a regular fabric. Graduid in its commencement^ 
it however discovered to the discerning eye a grandeur 
of design, and promised the most magnificent effects.. 
By degrees it disclosed beauty, utility, and majesty j 
it outstretched the eye of the spectator, and hid its head 
among the clouds/' 

Amidst the brilliant career of success which might 
thus be fairly ascribed, under Providence, to the virtu-- 
ous energies of one man, his majesty George the Se- 
cond died. About this period the French had succeeded 
In obtaining the co-operation of Spain by secret intrigjies;: 
which however did not elude the vigilance, or escape the 
penetration, of Mr. Pitt. He had procured private,. 
though certain intelligence of the Bourbon compact ; 
and with his usual vigour of decision, wished to strike 
the first blow against Spain. He proposed in council, 
that war should be immediately declared against that 
power, and orders instantly sent to capture her vessels ; 
urging w^th- the utmost energy, the impolicy of suiFcr. 
ing her to put herself mto a posture of defence, and to 
secure her treasure before she threw off the mask. 
Other sentiments now influenced the cabinet than when. 
Mr. Pitt began his career. He found the members dis- 
posed to temporize, and to pause, before th<ey created 
a new enemy. " I will not give them leave to think,'' 
replied the indignant minister ; ** this is the time, let; 
us crush the whole bouse of Bourbon. But if the mem- 
bers of this board are of a diirerent opinion, this is the- 
last time I shall ever mi;X in its councils. I was called 
into the ministry by the voice of the people, and to them 
1 hold myself responsible. I anl to thank the ministry 
of the late king for their support ; I have served my 



i 



lonu. r.r/>.s 





Blacks tone 



Coolke 





A ddi s on 



Anson 





Ilow^Mid 



Jolinsoii 



P/inlrri /on J^ichcu^ Phirii'fxr. OX^^i- QriAcfe Sc.^une jSrj^s . 



^ 



£ARL OF CHATHAM. 369 

country with fidelity and some success ; but I will not 
bj answerable for the conduct of the war any longer 
than I retain the direction of it.'' 

BeinTf cramped in his energies by the growing influ- 
ence of the earl of Bute, perhaps too proud to brook 
control, certainly too honest to change liis principles, 
and disdaining to be only the nominal head of a cabi- 
net over which he had presided vAth honour to himself 
and advantage to his country, he resigned his places ; 
and a few months more justified the wisdom of the mea- 
sure which he had recommended, when it was too 
late to retrieve the error that had occasioned its rejec- 
tion. "Whether with a design to lessen his popularity, 
or intended as a testimony of gratitude for his eminent 
and meritorious services, he w^as offered and he accepted 
a pension for three lives, and the title of a baroness for 
liis lady. 

A fallen minister is frequently insulted, and at best 
soon forgotten ; but William Pitt carried the confidence 
and respect of the nation with him into his retirenent, 
and received very flattering testimonies of approbation 
from the most respectable individuals and bodies-politic. 
The impetus which he had given to the machine of state, 
v/as felt for some time after he had v it'xdrawn from its 
direction ; and the illustrious commanders who had 
risen under his auspices, did not suffer the national glory 
to be depressed. New victories were gained, and in the 
prosf^erity of the empire the people consoled themselves 
tor the loss of a favourite minister. 

At last the preliminaries of peace were submitted to. 
parliament : and Mr. Pitt, though labouring under a 
severe fit of the gout, attended the house, and spoke for 
three hours in the debate ; giving the most unanswer* 
able reasons for his opposition to the terms of the treaty,, 
as being inadequate to our conquests and the expendi- 
ture of public money which they had cost. The love 
i®f peace is natural to man ; he si^hs for it amidst the 



S70 EARL OF CHATHAM. 

most successful war. The definitive treaty was there- 
fore ratified : but the ministry who had concluded it, 
felt themselves unable to maintain their ground in the 
public opinion ; and a spirit of opposition began to ap- 
pear against the general measures of government, which 
has ever since continued to distract the public mind, 
and is felt in its tendencies and effects to this very day. 
Mr. Pitt, however, ob erved a dignified moderation." 
His opposition was neither petulant nor undiscrimina- 
ting, and he appeared before the public only when oc« 
casions presented themselves woithy of his powers. 
When the important question of general warrants was 
discussed, his love of rational liberty broke forth in 
strains to which TuUy or Demosthenes would have lis* 
tened with eager satisfaction. He declared them re- 
pugnant to every principle of freedom. Were they to- 
lerated, he said, the m.ost innocent could not be secure* 
*• By the British constitution," continued he, " every 
man's house is his castle : not that it is surrounded by 
walls and battlements ;■ — it may be ^ straw-built shed j. 
every wind of heaven may whistle round it ; all the 
elements may enter it ; — ^but the king cannot, the king 
dare not." 

When those impolitic measures had been proposed, 
which unfortunately terminated in the separation of 
America, Mr. Pitt strenuously opposed them in the se^ 
nate, and exerted his wondcfrful powers to heal the 
wound that had been given, by promoting the repeal of 
the stamp-act. This was carried ; and a new ministry 
having been formed, Mr. Pitt was made lord-privy-seal, ; 
and created earl of Chatham. A short time before, , 
sir William Pynsent, of Burton Pynsent in Somerset- 
shire, a man of considerable property without any very ^ 
near relations, made Mr. Pitt his heir. To this he was 
actuated solely by an enthusiastic admiration of Mr, 
Pitt's public character ; and it is unnecessary to adduce 
any other proof of the singular estimation iu which he 



-^ EARL OF CHATHAM. ' S7 1 

was held, than that he received greater remunerations 
for his services from private zeal, than from the emolu- 
ments of public office. 

Whatever accession ®f honour a peerage gave him, 
tie great commoner (as he used emphatically to be called) 
was now rather obscured in dividing his honours with 
others. In the house of commons he stood unrivalled 
and alone; but in the house of lords, he had less opportu- 
nity for exerting his talents ; and, for a time at least, he 
lost in popularity what he gained in rank. In two years 
he resigned the office of lord-privy-seal : and being now 
sixty years of age, and debilitated by frequent attacks 
of the gout, he courted retirement, and abandoned all 
ambition of ever more taking an active part in admini- 
stration. 

Nevertheless, when the commotions broke out in 
America, he gave a decided opposition to the fatal mea^ 
sures which the ministry were pursuing : but when he 
found them lulled in security, or infatuated by folly to 
persevere, till repeated defeats and disgraces- at last 
opened their eyes ; when he saw France interfere in 
the contest:, and the independance of America about to 
be recognised by the weak and deluded administration 
that had hitherto contended for her unconditional sub- 
mission ; he summoned up all his energy ; and poured 
forth his eloquence against a measure so inglorious, and 
so fraught with ruin in its consequences, to his country 
and to mankind. 

The duke of Richmond replied, and combated his ar- 
guments. The mind cf lord Chatham seemed labour- 
ing with a desire to give vent to the further dictates of 
his soul on this momentous subject. He attempted to 
rise as his grace sat dovni, but his emotions proved too 
strong for his debilitated frame. He suddenly pressed 
his hand on his stomach, and fell into convulsions. The 
house was shocked by this melancholy circumstance, and 
8 



m 



372 EARL OF CHATFIAM. 



every one anxiously strove to procure relief. Bat his i 
scene of mortal existence was about to close for evef. ] 
This was the last public effort of this imrhortal senator, ' 
patriot, and minister ; and he might be said to breathe i 
his last in the service of his country. He died in about 
a month after ; and the enthusiastic respect which was 
paid to his memory, shewed how deservedly dear he 
was to the public, and how sensible every true Briton 
was of his loss. A public funeral was voted him by 
parliament, and a monument in Westminster abbey, 
with a liberal pension to his heirs to whom the title 
should descend. 

All ranks were zealous to testify their sincere regret 
and admiration ; and he is still universally allowed to 
have been as profound a politician, as able a senator, and . 
as upright a minister, as this country ever produced. 

Sagacity, promptitude, and energy, were the predo- 
minating features of lord Chatham's character. His 
ruling passion was a love of gloUjj.ljnernikwas of an 
honourable and virtuous kind ; \u^\'^r.'o.^^cc^ r^i^j mean- 
ness to obtain it, and his private life was unsullied by 
any vice. He was conscious of his virtues and talents, 
and therefore appeared impatient of contradiction in 
public affairs : but in society he could unbend to all 
companies; and possessed such a fund of intelligence, 
.and versatility of wit, that he could adapt himself to all 
circumstances and occasions. 

In the higher parts of oratory he had no competitor, 
and stood alone tlie rival of antiquity. His eloquence 
was of every kind, and he excelled in argument as well 
as declamation. But his invectives were terrible ; and 
uttered with such energy of diction, and such dignity 
of action and countenance, that he intimidated those 
who were the most willing and the best able to encoun- 
ter him. Their arms fell from their hands,, and they 
shrunk under the ascendant whicli his genius had gained 



DAVID GARRICK. 373 

over theirs. The flaent Murray (afterwards lord Mans- 
field) has faltered, and Fox (the first lord Holland) 
shrunk back appalled, from an adversary fraught with 
fire unquenchable. 

He could adapt himself to every topic ; but dignity 
was the character of his oratory, and his personal great- 
ness gave weight to the style he assumed. His asser- 
tions rose Into proof, his foresight became prophecy. 
No clue was necessary to the labyrinth illumined by his 
genius. Truth came forth at his bidding, and realized 
the wish of the philosopher ; she was seen and be- 
Icrved. 

Such are the panegyrics paid to this great man's in- 
tellectual and expressive pov/ers, by some who \vere wit- 
nesses of their effects, and judges of theii^^ierits. 

On a character so highly respected, and Endeared to 
Englishmen, it would be pleasing to enlarg^ ; but no- 
thing new can be here added to what has been advanced 
in his cor-' "on by the ablest writers, and silent 

admlracioii un sUd 'a favourite subject is perhaps the 
most eloquent praise. 



DAVID GARRICK, 

Born 1719— Died 1779. 

From 5th George /., to Vdlh G^-'orge IlL 

The grace of action, the adapted mien, 
Faithful as nature to the varied scene, 
Th' expressive glance, whose subtle comn^nt draws 
Entranc'd attention, and a mute applause ; 
<3esture that marks, with force and feeling fraught, 
A sense In silence, and a will in thought; 
Harmonious speech, whose pure and liquid tone 
Gives verse a music scarce confess'd its own 
(Ah light from gems assumes a brighter rav, 
And, cloth'd with orient huesj transcends the day); 

1 



^ 



374 DAVID GARRICK. 



Passion's wild break, and frown that awe* the sense. 

And every charm of gentler eloquence ; 

AH perishable, like th' electric fire. 

But strike the frame, and as they strike expire : 

Incense too choice a bodied flame to bear; 

Us fragrance charms the sense, and blends with air. 

Monody to the Memory o/'Garrick. 

THE poet lives in his lays, and the painter on his 
canvas. All the imitative arts, except the scenic, leave 
some memorials to illustrate the fame of proficients : 
but the transient beauties of dramatic acting have no 
permanent " local habitation ;" they blaze, and expire 
in an instant. The spectator can scarcely fix them m 
his memory ; and posterity can form no idea of them, 
except from the effects which they are recorded to have 
produced. The candidates for theatric fame are never- 
theless numerous : as it frequently happens that spe- 
cious talents are more encouraged then real; and because 
the clap of applause is more gratifying to many minds 
than the lasting plaudits of the world, which perhaps 
are not paid on this side the grave. Yet surely this con- 
sideration ought to have much weight with the young 
and inexperienced, to prove that a mediocrity of scenic 
excellence w^ill never gain either praise or reward ; and 
that the highest attainments in that art are as perishable 
as the frame that produces them. Even Garrick, who 
reached the summit of his profession, could not embody 
his excellences ; and no description of the voice or pen 
can do them justice. 

This great actor was descended from a French family, 
which the revocation of the edict of Nantz had forced 
to take refuge here. His father obtained a captain's 
commission in the British army, and generally resided 
at Lichfield. David, however, w^as born at Hereford, 
and seems to have received the early part of his educa- 
tion there ; but at ten years of age was removed to the 
grammar-school of Lichfield. His proficiency in learn- 



DAVID GARRICK. 375 

ing Wiis not great, because his application was not. 
He possessed a vivacity of temper which disquaUfied 
him for attention to books, and the love of theatric re- 
presentation seems to have been a part of his very con- 
stitution. In his eleventh year, he formed the project 
of getting up the Recruiting Officer ; and having pre- 
viously trained his youthful associates, they performed 
in a barn with general applause. The young hero of 
the stage particularly distinguished himself in the cha- 
racter of Serjeant Kite, and the plaudits which he re- 
ceived on this occasion served to fan the predominant 
passion of his breast ; which however was not suffered 
to burst into a flame, till it had acquired strength to 
support a steady blaze. Soon after, on the invitation 
of an uncle who w^as engaged in the wine-trade at Lis- 
bon, young GaiTick visited that city ; but his taste was 
totally incompatible with the pursuits of commerce, and 
his frolicsome vivacity did not comport with the grave 
formality of the old gentleman. In consequence they 
soon parted, yet not before Garrick had made him- 
self agreeable to the gay part of the English factory 
by his turn for sportiveness and mimicry ; which are 
pleasing in the boy, though often dangerous to the future 
man. 

Returning to Lichfield, he was placed for a short 
<lme under his illustrious townsman Samuel (afterwards 
Dr.) Johnson: but the master, however well qualified to 
instruct, had no great partiality for his profession ; and 
Garrick was as little disposed to learn. Both being 
soon weary of their situation, in 1737 they set oat to- 
gether to try their fortunes in the metrcipolis ; Garrick 
being then about eighteen years of age. 

Soon after his arrival in London, he entered himself 
of the Temple, with a design apparently to study the 
law as a profession ; but being now sensible of his little 
improvement in learning, and feeling the necessity of 
bestowing a more attentive application, he put himself 
under the instruction of Mr. Colson, an eminent m?.thc« 

E 



-376 DAVID GARRICK. 

matician at Rochester, and for some time pursued his 
studies with diligence and success. It was not long, 
however, before his uncle died, ^nd left him a legacy of 
a thousand pounds. Being unsettled in his mind, and 
desultory in his pursuits, because his filial affection kept 
him from indulging his fixed and unconquerable propen- 
^ty to the stage, he entered soon after into partnership 
with his brother Peter,^ a wine-merchant in London. 
This union was also of short duration. The tempers 
and habits of the twobrothers were entirely opposite ; 
and to avoid the unpleasantness of daily altercation, 
they parted by mutual consent. 

In this interval his mother had died ; and being now 
freed from a restraint which his duty had imposed on 
him, he gave a loose to his darling passion for the stage, 
.and associated chiefly with those from whom he could 
.derive dramatic improvement or pleasure. In the com- 
pany of the most celebrated actors he tried his powers, 
and frequented the theatre as a school where he was to 
learn the principles of his art. 

Garrick however, though enthusiastic in his pursuit, 
was not one of those inconsiderate votaries for dramatic 
fame, who risk success by crude and untimely attempts. 
He formed a proper estimate of his native pov/ers, and 
did not expose them before they gained maturity* He 
.considered it too hazardous to make his beginning on a 
XtOndon stage ; and therefore passed his noviciate at 
Ipswich, in the summer of 1741. The first character 
in which he appeared was that of Aboan, in the tra- 
gedy of Oroonoko, under the assumed name of Lyd- . 
dal 3 and the applause which he gained did credit to 
the taste of his provincial judges. In quick succession 
he performed several capital parts, both in tragedy and 
<:omedy ; and even to excel in the feats of Harlequin 
was not below his ambition. In every character, and 
in every attempt, he met with the loudest applause ; 
and having now gained confidence by success, he ap- 
peared the next winter on the stage at Goodman's-fidds. 



DAV^ID GARRICK. 377 

The first character which he represented to a London 
audience, was that of Richard the Third ; and the mast 
eminent judges of dramatic excellence in the great 
world, confirmed the decisions of his previous country- 
audiences. In a short time, Drury-lane and Covent- 
garden theatres vvxre almost deserted. It was un- 
fashionable not to see Garrick, and ks unfashionable not 
to admire him. He was universally acknow^ledged 
to be a rising prodigy on the stage ; and alone, but in 
vain, did the interested part of his profession endeavour 
to depreciate his worth. Quin could not conceal his 
vexation : and being told of his unbounded success, he 
observed, " that Garrick's was a new religion ; Whit- 
field w\is followed for a time, but people would soon 
return to church again." This being reported to the 
TOimg actor, he wrote the following epigram : 

Pope Quin,, who damns a11 churches but his own. 

Complains that heresy corrupts the town ; 

That Whitfield-Garrick has misled the age, 

And taints the sound rehgion of the stage. 

•* Schism," he cries, " has turn'd the nation's brain ; 

But eyes will open, and to church again !" 

Thou grekt InfaUible, forbear to roar ; 

Thy bulls and errors are rever'd no more. 

When doctrines meet with general approbation. 

It is not heresy y but reformation. 

But if Garrick was a match for Jiis jealous opponents 
at the pen, he found himself .inferi en- in influence. liav^ 
iiig been admitted to a half of the profits at Goodman's- 
fields, the patentees of the other theatres saw that tlicy 
niust.subvert his empire to preserve their ow^n. An act 
of parliament was obtained to confine dramatic exhibU 
tionsto Drury-lane and Covent-garden ; and Garn'ck 
entered into an agreement with the manager of the for- 
mer, on the salary of five hundred pounds a year. He 
had previously made himself known as a dramatic 
writer, by his Lying Valet, and Lethe : and now he 
began to obtain the appellation of the English Rosdus- 
and to be courted by the elegant, and patronized by 
the great. 

R 2 



S78 DAVID GARRICK. 

In consequence of his renown, Ireland early expressel 
a desire to witness his powers ; and having obtained 
very lucrative terms, he performed in Dublin during 
the summer of 174^2 with such uncommon celebrity, 
and to such crowded houses, that an epidemical fever 
broke out, which went by the name of " Garrick's dis- 
order." His reception in that hospitable country was 
the most flattering that any actor ever experienced, 
either before or since. 

In the winter he resumed his station at Drury-lane, 
and was now irrevocably fixed in the theatrical profes- 
sion. His name in a play-bill operated like a charm ; 
he never appeared without attracting full houses : and 
his fame being now completely established, he conti- 
nued for a long series of years the admiration of the 
public, and the idol of his friends ; among whom he 
could enumerate the most distinguished in rank, conse- 
quence, and talents. 

His services were found so essential to the support of 
the theatre, that in the year 1747 he became a joint 
patentee of Drury-lane. In this capacity he exerted 
himself to introduce order, decency, and decorum ; and 
his own example cooperated to give success to his en- 
deavours. He even rendered his profession more re- 
spectable than it had been before ; not only by his supe- 
rior accomplishments, but by his moral conduct. 

In tvv^o'yeiu's after he became a manager, he married 
mademoiselle Violette ; a young lady of great personal 
beauty and elegant qualities, who proved a most afFeci- 
tlonate partner. He was now easy in his circumstances, 
happy in his connections, admired wherever he was 
known, and blazoned by fame over Europe ; and after 
some vears of assiduous application he determined to 
visit the continent, both with a view to the improvement 
of his health, and the extension of his knowledge." Ac- 
cordingly in 1763 he set out en his travels; and was 
every where received with a respect due to his extraor- 
dinary talents as an actor, which he readily exhibited 



1 



DAVID GARRICK. 379 

when properly requested* Indeed vanity seems to have 
been a^redommant part of his character, and he re- 
ceived the incense of applause with as much rapture as if 
he had not been accustomed to enjoy it. His company 
was eagerly desired by the great and the learned in 
France and Italy ; and to entertain them he would go 
through the whole circle of theatric exertions, w^ith 
a rapidity unexampled, and an impressive force that 
nothing could resist. Without the least preparation, 
he could assume any character, and seize on any pas- 
sion. He passed in an instant from the deepest tragedy 
to the extremes of comic levity, and agitated every 
spectator with the feeling which he meant to inspire. 

He repeated the soliloquy from Macbeth before the 
duke of Parma ; and had several friendly contests with 
the celebrated mademoiselle Clairon at Paris, for the 
entertainment of their mutual friends. But Garrick 
WRS not satisfied with the fame which he justly received 
fop animated and correct expression of the passions from 
plays only ; he convinced his friends, that even in dumb 
show he could m.elt the heart. Having been an eye- 
witness of an unhappy father in France, fondling his 
child at an open wiudpv/, when it sprung from his arms,- 
and was dashed to pieces in the street, he recited this 
affecting incident ; and threw himself into the distracted 
attitude of th^ parent at the instant when his darling 
appeared irrecoverably lost, with such natural expres- 
sion of unutterable woe, that he filled every breast with 
sympathetic horror, and drew forth a shower of tears. 
Even Clairon was so much affected and charmed, that 
when she had a little recovered, by an involuntary im- 
pulse of applause she caught Garrick in her arms and 
kissed him. 

i After ^spending about a year and a half on the conti- 
nent, our great Roscius -returned to his native land ; 
and having derived much of his reputation from exhi-' 
biting the impassioned scenes of Shakspeare, in honour 
. that immortal author he projected a jubilee at Strat- 



58Q BAVlD GARRICK. 

ford, wbxich drew together such a concourse of polite 
spectators as was scarcely ever known before. On 
ibis occasion, the first actor paid the homage or respect 
to the first dvamattc writer that Britain ever produced. 

In 1 /73 Garrick became sole manager of Drury-lane; 
but age now creeping on, and the gout and stone fre- 
quently afflicting him, he sold his share of the patent 
three years after, and bade a final adieu to the stage, 
The two or three weeks before he retired, he went 
thijough some of his principal characters with undimi- 
nished spirit, and ciOnfirmed the reputation he had 
gained. The last part which he performed was Felix, 
in the comedy of the Wonder. When the play was 
ended, he stepped forward under extreme emotion ; and 
after a short struggle, addressed the audience in such 
patlietic terms as drew tears from every eye, as well as 
his own. " This," said he, " is to me a very awful 
moment ; it is no less than parting for ever with tliose 
from whom I have received the greatest kindness and 
favours, and upon the spot where that kindness and those 
favours were enjoyed.'^ Having concluded his parting 
harangue, in which every heart sympathized, he made 
a profound bow, the curtain dropped, and he retired 
amidst the regret and acclamations of the most brilliant 
audience that had ever been collected in an English 
theatre. 

During the Christmas holidays of 1778, being on a 
visit with Mrs. Garrick at the country seat of earl Spen- 
cer, he was seized with a disorder, from which having 
partially recovered, he returned to his house in the Adel- 
phi : but next day the attack returned, and the arts of 
medicine proving ineffectual to relieve him, a stupor 
came on, imd incfeased till the moment of his dissolu- 
tion ; which happened four days after, without a groaif. 
Many of the faculty attended him with affectionate assi- 
duity. 

A monument is erected to his memory in Westmin- 
. ster abbey, under which is the following epitaph ; 



CAPTAIN COOK. S8l 

To paint fair Nature, by Divine command, 
— Her magic pencil in his glowing hand, — 
A Shakespeare rose : — then, to expand his fame 
Wide o'er this " breathing world," a Garrickcame. 
Thou,£rh sunk in death the forms the poet drew. 
The ac t o r 's geni u s bade the n i b r eat he a n e\v ; 
Though, like the bard liimself, in night they lay^^ 
Immortal Garrick caird them back to day ; 
And, all Eternity, with power sublime, 
Shall mark the mortal hour of hoary Time; 
Shakespeare and Garrick like tv/in stars shall shine. 
And earth irradiate with a beam divine. 

S. J. Pratt- 

Considered as a dramatic writer, his fame is only sub- 
ordinate. His compositions of every kind are rather 
the temporary eiFu:>ions of an elegant playful mindj> 
than finished productions. But umversal excellence is 
not the lot of man. He reached the summit of ercel- 
lence as an actor 5 and, what is more to his credit, he 
performed with respectability liis part hi private life. 
He was greedy of money and of praise : of tlae formeri, 
however, he made a charitable use, and th^ latter wau^ 
justly due to his supereminent abilities. Courted and 
flattered as he was, he ^must have been somewhat 
more than man to be absolutely devoid of vanity: » Ft 
has been s^id of Garrick, " that he was only natural 
on the stage ;'' yet his private friends loved him well, 
and have paid many honourable testimonies to his social 
worth. 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 

Born 1728— Killed 1779- 

From \st George ILy to 19th George II L 

FOR the present reign was reserved the glory of car- 
rying the spirit of maritime enterprise to its utmost ex- 
tent, and of directing it to its noblest ends ;: the enlarge- 
ment of science, and the civilization of mankind : nor 
can the patriotic sovereign who patronized the^e designs. 



S»2 CAPTAIN COOK. 

be ever viewed in this honourable light, without reflect- 
ing a lustre on the able servant who executed them, 
distinguished as this country is for its illustrious naviga- 
tors, it derives no small part of its fame from producing 
such a m.an as Cook ; who by dint of persevering di- 
ligence, and the exercise of useful talents, burst through 
the impediments of original indigence and obscurity, 
gained the palm of deserved celebrity, and now ranks 
high among the benefactors of mankind- 

This respectable and beloved commander was born at 
Marton in Cleveland, about four miles from Great Ay- 
ton in Yorkshire. His father, who lived in the humble 
capacity of a farmer's servant, married a woman in the 
same sphere of life with himself. Both were noted for 
honesty, sobriety, and industry ; qualities which are esti- 
mable in even the lowest station : and when our naviga* 
• tor was very young, his father's good character pro- 
cured him the place of a bailiff to a gentleman at Great 
Ayton, whither the family removed. The son followed 
the same servile employment, as much as his tender 
years w^ould permit ; and thus laid the foundation of 
that hardiness of constitution which enabled him to ful- 
fil his future destiny. 

The early education of Cook seems to have been very 
slender; however, it was not wholly neglected. At th& 
age of thirteen he was placed under the care of a 
writing-master, with whom he learned the rudinients q£ 
arithmetic and book-keeping ; and is said to have shewn 
a remarkable facility in acquirliig the science of numbers. 

Having reached his seventeenth year, his father bound 
him apprentice to a grocer at Snaith, a considerable fish- 
ing town. But as he evinced a strong partiality for a 
maritime life (for which his predilection was probably 
confirmed by the situation of the place, and the prevail- 
ing taste of its inhabitants), after eighteen months of 
servitude he obtained a release from his engagements, 
and determined to follow the bent of his genius. 

Accordingly, in 1746 he became an apprentice for 



CAPTAIN COOK. 383 

three years to some gentlemen of Whitby, who were en- 
gaged chiefly in the coal-trade ; and served the full term 
to their entire satisfaction. After performing some 
voyages to the Baltic in the capacity of a common sailor, 
his masters, who had penetration enough to discover his 
talents and worth, appointed him mat^ to one of their 
ships, and after some time made him an oifer of the 
place of captain ; which, fortunately for his country, he 
declined. 

On the commencement of hostilities between Great 
Britain and France in 1755, Cook, who then lay in the ri- 
ver Thames, finding that press-warrants were issued, felt 
a spirit that disdained to be compelled to serve his king, 
and he adopted the resolution of entering as a volunteer 
in the reyal navy ; " having a mind,'' as he expressed 
himself, " to try his fortune in that way.'' 

The first ship in which he served was the Eagle ; and 
captain (afterwards sir Hugh) Palliser, being appointed 
to its command, soon remarked the diligence and at- 
tention of Cook, and granted him every encouragement 
compatible with his humble station. His friends and 
connections in his native county, likewise, finding his 
conduct deserving their patronage, generously interfered 
m his behalf : and ^y the assistance of Mr. Osbaldeston, 
member for Scarborough, and the warm encomiums of 
his captain, at last procured him a master's warrant in 
the Mercury ; in which ship he sailed, under sir Charles 
Saunders, to assist in the reduction of Quebec. 

His professional merit, skill, and intrepidity, were 
now suihciently known ; and he was appointed to take 
tlie soundings of the river St. Lawrence, directly oppo- 
site to the French camp ; a service as hazardous as im- 
portant, but which he performed to the entire satisfac^ 
tion of his employers. 

There is no reason to believe that before this period 
Cook had used a pencil, or was acvquainted v/ith the 
principles of drawing ; but such v/ere the vigour of his- 
K 5 



384 CAPTAIN COOK* 

mind, and his aptitude for the acquisition of knowledge, 
that he speedily mastered every object to which he ap- 
plied. Under every disadvantage, he furnished the ad- 
miral with a complete draught of the channel and its 
soundings ; and at once established his reputation as a 
surveyor. 

After the conquest of Canada, so honourable to every 
person w^hobore a part in it, he was appointed master of 
the Northumberland, under lord Colville, on the Nova 
Scotia station ; where he ingratiated himself with his no- 
ble commander in a high degree. Being sensible that he 
was now in die road to promotion, he redoubled bis 
ardour to qualify himself for adorning any station to 
which he might be raised. He devoted his leisure hours 
1^0 the study of such branches of knowledge as add uti- 
lity to, or reflect a lustr-e on, nav^l life* He read Eu- 
clid's elements, and studied astronomy ; and by applica- 
tion and perseverance overcame every obstacle of situa- 
tion, and made a progress which a man of less genius 
could never have attained, even under much superior 
advantages. 

In April 1760 he received a lieutenant's commission, 
and daily advanced in the career of glory. Stimulated 
by the success that had attended his past labours, and 
animated by the hopes of future promotion^ he dili- 
gently applied himself to acquire a knowledge of the 
North American coast, and to facilitate its navigation. 
His abilities as an accurate draughtsman were now sa 
well known, that he was employed by different com- 
manders ta-tnake charts and surveys ; and the unani- 
mous voice of the best judges confirms his merit in this 
respect. 

Towards the close of 1762, he returned to England;: 
and marriedya young lady of the name of Batts, whont 
he tenderly loved, and who had every claim to his 
warmest atfection and esteem. His situation in life 
however, and the high and important services to which 

1 



CAPTAIN COOK. 385 

he was called, did not suffer him to partake long to- 
gether of domestic enjoyments ; for he was variously 
engaged in North America and the West Indies during 
some of the subsequent years. 

That he had made a considerable proficiency In prac- 
tical astronomy before 1766, is evident from his obser- 
vation of an eclipse of the sun at the island of New- 
foundland taken that year, with the longitude deduced 
from it^^ which was published in the Philosophical Trans- 
actions ; and he now acquired reputation for his scien- 
tiiic, as he had formerly for his professional skilL 

But we have now come to a period of his life v/hich 
requires little Illustration ; hls-services are well known 
to Europe and the world, and can here be only sum- 
med up in a very cursory manner. The history of his 
voyages will be read and remembered as long as curi« 
esity is anr active principle of the human mind. Hav- 
ing thus seen the progressive steps by which this great 
nautical character ro^e, it cannot fail to be consolatory 
to those whoy like him, aspire by merit to distinction, to 
know that the path is still open ; and that honour and 
fame await the brave, the enterprising, and the merito- 
rious* 

The Royal Society having resolved that it would be 
teneiicial to science to send proper persons into the 
South Seas, to observe the e;cpected transit of Venus^ 
over the sun's disk, lieutenant Cook, v/hose abilities as- 
an astronomer were now well known, was not only ap- 
pointed to die command of a vessel fitted out by govern- 
ment for this purpose, but also constituted joint astro- 
nomer with Mr. Charles Green. The present sir Joseph. 
Banks also volunteered his services on this occasicn ;, 
and Dr-Solander, a disciple of Llnnxus, added to the 
scienti fie attendants of the voyage. Cook, with the rank 
of captain, sailed down the river Thames on the SOth of 
July 1768, on an expedition the most honourable to his 
country. Seldom have distPJit regions been explored 



386 CAPTAIN COGK. 

by authority, unless for the purposes of avarice or am- 
bition ; but on this occasion the desire of knowledge 
was the grand incitement to adventure. In the course 
of the voyage, captain Cook visited the Society islands ; 
determined the insularity of Nev/ Zealand; sailed 
through the straits which separate two islands, now 
called after his name ;. and made a complete survey of 
both. He afterwards explored the eastern coast of New 
Holland, hitherto unknown^ and thus added an extent 
of more than two tliousand miles to our geographical . 
knowledge of the globe. In this voyage, which lasted 
nearly three years, captain Cook, besides effecting the 
immediate object of his mission, made discoveries equal 
in number and importance to all the navigators of his 
own or any other country collectively, from the time of 
Columbus to the present. 

Soon after his return, it was determined to ^quip two 
ships to complete the discovery of the southern hemi- 
-sphere. It had long been a prevailing idea among geo- 
graphers, that the unexplored part contained another 
continent ; and captain Cook was employed to ascer-- 
tain this important point. Accordingly he sailed from 
Deptford in the Resolution, accompanied by the Adn 
venture, on the 9th of April 1772, and effectually re- 
solved the question of a southern continent : having tra- 
versed that hemisphere in such a manner as not to leave 
a possibility of its existence ; unless near the pole, and 
out of the reach of navigation. During this expedition 
he discovered New Caledonia, one of the largest islands 
in the South Pacific Ocean ; the island of South Geor- 
gia; and Sandwich-land, the farthest point of the South- 
ern hemisphere : and having twice visited the tropical 
seas, he settled the positions of some places, and made 
several fresh discoveries. 

So many services performed by one man, might have 
been an honourable acquittance from farther tolls ; and 
his country considered it in this light : but captain. 



CAPTAIN COOK. 387 

Cook, animated by the love of true glory, wished to 
complete the geography of the globe ; and having been 
consulted respecting the appointment of a proper officer 
to conduct a voyage of further discovery, to determine 
die practicability of a north-west passage to India, he 
immediately offered his own services, which were ac- 
cepted with all possible gratitude and acknowledg- 
ment. 

On this his third and unhappily last voyage, he 
sailed in July 1776 : and besides several islands in the 
Southern Pacific, he discovered, to the north of the 
equinoctial line, the group called the Sandwich islands ; 
which, from their situation and products, bid fair to be- 
come an object of consequence in the system of Euro- 
pean navigation and commerce. After this he proceed- 
ed on the grand object of his expedition, and explored 
what had hitherto remained unknown of the western 
coast of America, containing an extent of three thou- 
sand five hundred miles ; ascertained the proximity of 
the two great continents of Asia and America; passed 
the straits that divide them ; and surveyed the coast on 
each side to such a height of northern latitude, as fully 
demonstrated the Im.practlcability of a passage, in that 
hemisphere, from the Atlantic into the Pacific Ocean, 
either by; an eastern or western course. 

After having achieved so much, it Is painful to reject 
that he did not live to enjoy the honours which would 
have been paid to his successful andinerltorious labours. 
On his return, he was unfortunately cut off, in an affray 
with the natives of Owhyhee, one of the Sandwich, 
islands ; v.-hich were thus part of the fruits ef his dis- 
coveries, and the scene of his melancholy death. The 
loss of this estimable man was sincerely lamented, not 
only by Britain, but by every nation which loved sci- 
ence, or was capable of appreciating useful talents and 
services. The most hoaourable eulogies have been paid ■■ 
to his memory, by some v/hose slightest praise is fiimc : , 



S8S CAPTAIN COOK* 

but no panegyric can exceed his deserts, nor are monu- 
ments necessary to perpetuate his remembrance ; those 
which he erected himself will be eternal. 

His character is thus drawn by his amiable coadjutor 
captain King : " The constitution of his body was ro- 
bust, inured to labour, and capable of undergoing the 
severest hardships. His stomach bwe without diffi- 
culty the coarsest and most ungrateful food. Indeed 
temperance in him was scarcely a virtu.e, so great was 
the indifference with which he submitted to any kind of 
self-denial. The qualities of his mind were of the same 
hardy vigorous kind with tho^e of his body. His cou- 
rage was cool and determined, and accompanied with 
an admirable presence of mind in the moment of dan- 
ger. His manners were plain and unaffected. His 
temper might perhaps have been justly blamed as to 
hastiness and passion,, had not these been disarmed by x 
disposition the most benevolent and humane.. But the 
distinguishing feature of his character was unremitting 
perseverance in the pursuit of his object ^ which was not 
only superior to the opposition of dangers, and the pres- 
sure of hardships, but even exempt from the want of or- 
dinary relaxation." 

As a commander, his benevolent attention to tlje 
health of his men, and the success which attended it/ 
form a distinguished part of his praise. By the judi- 
cious metliods he pursued, he has^hewn the world that 
the longest voyages, through every climate, may be- 
per/ormed with as little risk of life from natural causes, 
as under our native sky, and surrounded witli every 
comfort. He has proved that the scurvy _, which has 
so frequently been the pest of nautical expeditions, may 
be avoided,, or its ravages repelled. For his easy and 
practicable means of securing the health of seamen, 
which he communicated to the Royal Society, the gold 
medal was voted to him, with an appropriate speech by 
the president, after liis departure on his last voyage- 



1 



SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTGNE^ S89 

This testimony of gratitude never reached his ears ; 
but for the services which obtained it his name will de- 
scend to future ages, among the friends and benefactors 
of mankind. 



SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE, 

JUDGE OF THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS> 

Bom 1723— Died 1780. 

From 9t/j George /., to 20/A George- III. 

TO be able to produce flowers in a path confessedly 
rugged, to render the driest subject not only instruc- 
tive but inviting, implies no small share of genius and 
talents ; and this was reserved for sir William Blackstone 
to perform. Before his time, jurisprudence was stu- 
died only as qualifying for a profession ;^ but his labours 
rendered it a classical pursuit* The illoistrious Bacon 
had the glory to bring down philosophy to the level of 
common understandings, and tp render it captivating ;. 
and Blackstone made the legal polity of his country 
amiable and popular, by the simple neatness in which 
he clothed it. 

This elegant lawyer was a native of London, and 
was born in Cheapside. His father was a very respec* 
table citizen^ but died before the birth of this his fourth 
son : his mother was of a genteel family in Wiltshire, 
but she too departed this life before he could be duly 
senii'3le of his loss. The care of his education therefore 
devolved on an uncle, who placed him early at the 
Charter-house ; and he was afterwards admitted on that 
excellent and liberal foundation. In this seminary he 
pursued his classical studies with uncommon assiduity 
^ and success, and gave indications of those talents and 
thut industry which shone in his future life.. When. 



390 SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE* 

only fifteen year*s of age, he was found properly quali- 
fied to be removed to the university ; and accordingly 
was entered a commoner of Pembroke college Oxford. 
But being at the head of the school, and deservedly 
favoured by his master, he was permitted to continue 
^ome months longer a scholar at the Charter-house, 
that he might have the honour and emolument of speak- 
ing the usual oration on the anniversary commemora- 
tion of the founder. About the same time, he ob- 
tained Mr. Benson's gold medal for verses ©n Milton ; 
and was considered by all who knew him, as a very pro- 
mising genius. 

Pursuing his academical studies with unremitted ar- 
dour, he soon became as much admired at the university 
as he had been at school. The Greek and Latin poets 
were his favourites, but they did not engross all his at- 
tention. Logic, mathematics, and other sciences, were 
cultivated by the young student with diligence and ala- 
crity ; and possessing a mind formed for acute investi- 
gation, and a taste for extracting the sweets of every 
subject which he studied, he converted the most dry into 
an amusement, and the most abstruse he stripped of its 
veil and its asperity. He evinced a particular passion 
for architecture ; and when no more than twenty years 
of age, drew up the elements of that science for his 
own use only : but this was considered as only a pre- 
sage of his future celebrity. 

Hitherto, however, he had been studying merely for 
ornament, or for private gratification. It now was re- 
quisite to determine on some profession in life^ in which 
he might render his talents subservient to his advance- 
ment. Accordingly he quitted the flowery paths of 
polite literature, in which he had strayed with the 
highest intelleptual delight ; and devoting himself to 
the study of the law, entered himself of the Middle 
Temple in November l?-!*] . On this occasion he wrote 
a very beautiful ode, entitled the Lawyer's Farew^el- 
■ • ■ 7 



SIR WILLIAM BLACKSrONE. 391 

to his Muse, from which the following extracts are 

taken : 

As by some tyrant's stern command 
A wretch forsakes his native land, 
/ In foreign climes condemned to roam 

An endless exile from his home; 
Pensive he treads the dfistin'd way. 
And dreads to g(», nor dares to stay ; 
Till on some neighb'ring mountain's brow 
He stops, and turns his eyes below ; 
There, melting at the well-known view, 
Drops a last tear, and bids adieu : 
So I, thus doom'd from thee to part, 
Gay queen of fancy and of art, 
Reluctant move \vith doubtful miad, 
Oft stop, and often look behind. 



Shakspeare no more, thy sylvan son, 
Nor all tht art of Addison, 
Pope's heaven-strung lyre, nor Waller'i ease, 
Nor Milton's mighty self, must please. 
Instead of these a formal band 
In furs and coifs around me itand : 
With sounds uncouth, and accents dry, 
That grate * the soul of harmony,' 
Each pedant sage unlocks his store 
Of mystic, dark, discordant lore; 
And points, with toLtering hv^nd, the ways 
That lead me'to the thorny ma^. 

There, in a winding close retreat, 
Is Justice doom'd to fix her §eat ; 
I'here, fenc'd by bulwarks of the law, 
She keeps the w^ond'ring world in awe ; 
And there from vulgar sight retir'd, 
Like eastern queens, is more admir'd. 

Oh ! let me pierce the secret shade, 
Where dwells the venerable maid: 
There humbly mark, with rev 'rent awci 
The guardian of Britannia's law ; 
Unfold with joy her sacred page, 
Th' united boast of many an age,^ 
Where mix'd yet uniform appiears 
The wisdom of a thousand years ; 



392 SIR WILLIAM BLACK3T0NE* ' 

In that pure sprliifr the bottom view. 
Clear, deep, and regailady true, 
And other doctrines thence imbibe 
Than lurk within the sordid scribe j 
Observe how parts with parts unite 
In one harmonious rule of right ; 
See countless wheels distinctly tend 
By various laws to one f^reat end. 
While mighty Alfred's piercing soul 
Pervades and regulates the whole. 

In 174-4 Mr. Blackstone was elected a fellow of Alt 
Souls, and from this period divided his time betw-een 
the college and the Temple. To the former he per* 
formed some very essential services, and was intrusted 
with the management of its most valuable concerns. 

In Michaelmas term 1746 he was called to the bar ; 
but possessing neither a confident eloquence, nor a 
prompt delivery, he did not make any considerable 
figure there. However, v.^ith his abilities, a patron alone 
was v/anting to secure his success. His real merits were 
cnly known to a few; for though both solid and 
striking, they required to be set off by extrinsic circum- 
stances. After attending the courts for seven years, and 
perhaps with as deep a knowledge of the laws of his coun- 
try as any counsellor of his time, he found that with all his 
diligence and all his merit he could not open the way to 
fame ; and having previously been elected recorder of 
Wallingford, and taken the degree of doctor in civil lav^, 
he resolved to retire to an academic life, and the limited 
practice of a provincial counsel. He is not the only 
great lawyer who has found the difficulty of rising in 
early distinction. In all the professions, a young adven^ 
turer requires some adventitious helps ; some lacky inci- 
dent to develop talents, or powerful friends to force 
them into notice. 

It was fortunate however for his fame and for his 
country, that he gained the learned leisure which Ox- 
ford allowed him. Having for some years planned his 
lectures on the laws of England, he now began to exe* 



SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE. 393 

»"ute this immortal work. In 17o4j he published his 
Analysis, which increased his fame as a legal scholar ; 
and four years after, being elected Vinerian professor 
of the common law, he read his celebrated introduc- 
tory lecture, which to the purest elegance of diction 
united the most recondite knowledge of English juris- 
prudence. Every succeeding lecture increased his re- 
putation ; and he became the deserved object of admi- 
ration among the legal students, and was considered as 
an ornament to the university. 

Being now generally known as a man of talents, in 
1 7o9 he purchased chambers in the Temple, and made 
another effort at the bai*. He continued, however, to 
read his lectures at Oxford with the highest distinction ; 
and they became so much talked of, that it is said the 
governor of his present majesty when prince of Wales 
requested a copy of them for the use of his royal pnpil. 
It is certain that Dr. Blackstone was now daily ad- 
vancing in fortune and fame. In 1761 he was returned 
to parliament ; and appointed king's counsd? after re- 
fusing the office of chief-justice of the court of com- 
mon pleas in Ireland. The same year he married a 
daughter ef James Clitherce, esq. of Boston-house, in 
Middlesex, by whom he left several children ; and va- 
cating his fellowship, the chancellor of the university 
appointed him principal of New Inn hall. The fol- 
lowing year he w^as made solicitor-general to the queen, 
and chosen a bencher of the Middle Temple. His ce- 
lebrated Commentaries on the Laws of England began 
to be published in 1765, and were completed in the four 
succeeding years. The reputation v/hich he gained by 
this work was unbounded ; and in consequence it wa& 
minutely criticised by such as envied his fame, or dis-^ 
liked some principles which he had laid down. But 
the basis, and indeed the general execution, will be as 
durable as the British constitution, of which it treats i 
and let us add^ may both be- perpetual ! 



394 SIR WILLIAM BLACKSTONE. 

In May 1770 Dr. Blackstone was knightedj and ap- 
pointed a judge in the court of king^s-bench ; and the 
following month removed to the same station in the 
common pleas. Having now obtained the summit of 
his wishes, he resigned all his other appointments, and 
settled wholly in London. Though never distinguished 
as a very fluent speaker, he was justly esteemed an able 
and upright judge, and did honour to the bench. But 
he did not confine his talents entirely to his vocation ; 
whenever his leisujre permitted, he was employed in 
some plan of public utility ; either enlarging the bounds 
of legal knowledge, or promoting the interest and wel- 
fare of society. ^ 

A life devoted to intense study, early brought upon 
him the infirmities of age. His constitution was broktii 
by the gout, and nervous complaints, the effect of seden- 
tary pursuits. About Christmas 1779 he was seized 
with an asthma, which was partially removed ; but a^ 
stupor and drowsiness ensuing, he died about six, weeks 
after, in th$ fifty-sixth year of his age, and was. buried 
in the family-vault at Wallingford. 

As a lawyer, the character and abilities of sir Wil- 
liam Blackstone must be estimated from his works ; and 
his fame may be safely committed to the breasts of the 
impartial. Every Englishman is under obligations to 
him for the pains he has taken to make the laws of his 
country Intelligible, and the philosopher will thank him 
for rendering the study of them easy and engaging. 

In private life he was truly amiable ; beloved by his 
friends for the pleasantness of his n^anners, and en- 
deared to his family by the suavity of his disposition. 
He was a remarkable econoniist of time ; and as he dis- 
liked squandering away his own, so he was averse to 
waste that of others. In reading his lectures, it could 
not be remembered that he ever made his audience 
wait even a fe\v minutes beyond the time appointed. 
No one could have been more rigid in obsei^ing the 



BR. JOHNSON. 39^ 

hour and minute of an appointment. Indeed punctu- 
ality*, in his opinion, was so much a virtue, that he could 
not bring himself to tliink perfectly well of any one who 
was notoriously defective in its practice. 



DOCTOR SAMUEL JOHNSON. 

Born I709~Died 1784. 
From 1th Ann:^ to "ZUh George II L 

OF this luminary of the eigh*:;^enth century, who was 
confessedly at the head of general literature in a coun- 
try where knowledge is very widely diffused, so much 
already has been written by friends and foes, by panegy- 
rists and detractors, with such an amplitude of remark, 
and diligence of research, that the most industriouiy can- 
not glean a new anecdote, nor even tlirow an air of no- 
velty on the hackneyed theme. It will therefore be suffi- 
cient here to select some short biographical notices, and 
characteristic traits, of this profound writer, and truly 
good man : happy if the young can be thus lured to the 
study of his inestimable productions ; happier still, if 
they cai^ be engaged to practise his virtues. For the 
life of Johnson was a perpetual comment on the precepts 
which he promulgated : in his writings we read tiie 
man, exposed to the most incurious eye. Digniiled in 
his mind, he scorned to conceal his genuine sentiments, 
or to wrap them in the veil of mystery. He spoke and 
wrote from his owm impressions alone, whether right 
or UTong ; he conceded nothing through complaisance, 
and palliated nothing through fear. 

Lichfield had the high honour of producing this pro- 
digy in the literary world. His father was a bookseller 
there ; a profession formerly, and even riow, accompa- 
nied by no mxean talents, and which affords considerable 
facilities of cultivating tliem. Mr. Johnson seem^ to 



1 



396 DR. JOHNSOX, 

have been neither destitute of intelligence nor discern- 
ment ; but fortune did not smile upon his exertions, 
and he lost by scheming* what he gained by his regular 
trade. Either from his parents, or a nurse, young 
Johnson unhappily derived a scrofulous taint, which 
disfigured his features, and aiFected the senses of hear- 
ing and seeing ; and this it was perhaps w^hich gave a 
melancholy cast to his mind, and even influenced his- 
whole character. For this malady he was actually 
touched by queen Anne ; for, being of a jacobitical fa- 
mily, his parents had great faith in that superstitious 
practice. 

After acquiring the rudiments of reading under an 
old school-mistress, and an English master, he was 
sent to the grammar-school at his native city ; and had 
for his associates Dr. James the physician. Dr. Taylor 
rector of Ashbourne, and Mr. Hector surgeon in Bir- 
mingham, with whom he contracted a particular inti- 
macy. At school he is said to have been averse to 
study, but possessed of such strength of genius as ren- 
dered his tasks easy without much application. Some 
ef his exercises have accidentally been preserved, and 
justify the opinion of his father ; who thought that lite- 
rature was the direction to which his talents were in- 
clined, and resolved to encourage it notwithstanding the 
narrowness of his own circumstances. To complete 
his classical studies he was afterwards removed to Stour- 
bridge, where he acted in the double capacity of scho- 
lar and usher. His progress at the two grammar-schools 
he thus describes : ** At the first I learnt much in the 
school, but little from the master ; at the last I learnt 
much from the master, but little in the school." 

After passing two years at home in desultory study, 
he was'" entered as a commoner of Pembroke college ; 
- and according to the testimony of Dr. Adams, his fel- 
low-collegian, was the best-qualified young man he had 
ever known admitted. He had not been long at the 



DR. JOHNSON. 397 

university before he had an opportunity of displaying 
his poetical genius, in a Latin translation of Pope's 
Messiah ; which at once established his fame as a clas- 
sical scholar, and procured him compliment from the 
great author of that poem himself. 
. But amidst his growing reputation as a scholar, he 
felt the penury of his circumstances insupportable. 
Humiliating as it must have been to a person of John- 
son's independant and elevated mind, his finances did 
not even enable him to make a decent appearance in 
dress, much less to defray the expense of academic msti- 
tutlon or elegant society. At last the insolvency of his 
father completed his distress ; and, he relinquished his 
prospects at the university, after a short and interrupted 
residence of three years. 

Returning to Lichfield, he was for some time de- 
pendant on the hospitality of benevolent friends. At 
this period the morbid melancholy of his constitution, 
heightened by his forlorn circumstances, made him fancy- 
that he was approaching to insanity, and he actually 
consulted a physician on this subject ; who found that 
his imagination and spirits alone were affected, and 
that his judgment was sound and vigorous. From this 
habitual despondency he never was perfectly relieved, 
and all his amusements and his studies were only so 
many temporary alleviations of its influence. 

Being without permanent protection or provision, he 
gladly accepted the offer of the place of usher at a 
school at Market Bosworth, immediately after his fa- 
ther's death ; on which latter event a sum of twenty 
pounds was the only inheritance which fell to his share. 
This situation he soon found intolerable ; from the ty- 
rannical behaviour of a patron> in whose house he 
lodged. His prospects were now worse than ever ; 
and he was obliged to the friendship of Mr. Hector, 
his former companion, who was now settled at Bir- 
mingham, for a temporary refuge. At this place he 



898 DR. JOHNSON. 

commenced his career as an author, in the service of the 
editor of a newspaper ; and here he pubUshed a transla- 
tion of Lobo's Voyage to Abyssinia, for which he re- 
ceived five guineas. This first prosaic production of his" 
pen, contains none of that characterisjtic style which he 
afterwards formed, and which is^peculiarly his own. . 

Johnson had been early sensible of the influence of 
female charms : and after a transient passion for miss 
Lucy Porter, paid his addresses to her mother, the wi- 
dow of a mercer in Birmingham, which were accepted ; 
and in 1735 she made him happy with her hand, and a 
portion of eight hundred pounds. The object of his 
choice was nearly double his own age, and not extremeiy 
amiable either in person or manners ; yet he says it was 
a love-match on both sides ; and he entertained a sin- 
cere affection for her, which did not terminate with her 
life. 

As he was now in a state of comparative independ- 
ance, he attempted to establish a boarding-school at 
Edialj near Lichfield : but this scheme proved unsuc- 
cessful for want of encouragement ; and in 1737 he de- 
termined to try his fortune in London, the grand mart 
of genius and industry, and where talents of every kind 
have tjie amplest scope. 

Accordingly he set out, in company with Garrick ; 
who had been his pupil, and now became his fellow-ad- 
venturer. That two men vrho afterwards rose to such 
celebrity, should be thus launched into life at the same 
lime, and not only as tov/nsmen but as friends, is a sin- 
gular circumstance. The prospects^ of Johnson were 
( ertaiiily the most uninviting ; he had been already bro- 
ken by disappointments, and besides was a rnarried 
man. The gay fmcicstof hope danced before the other, 
and his fine flow of spirits enabled him to view with un- 
concern what would have overwhelmed his companion. 

How Johnson at first employed his talents, is not 
well known ; he had been hovv-^ever in previous cone- 



DR, JOHNSON. 399 

sp^nxlence with Mr. Cave, the proprietor of the Gentle- 
man's Magazine ; and for some years after he settled in 
the metropolis, he derived his principal support from 
the part he took in that publication. After a few months* 
trial, in which he might possibly feel his strength and 
enlarge his connections, he returned to Lichfield for a 
short time ; and having now finished his tragedy oi 
Irene, which had long employed his attention, h^ 
finally settled in^ London widi his wife, who had 
hitherto been left in the country. 

The poor pittances that can be allowed to a mere 
contributor to a periodical work however respectable, 
cannot be supposed adequate to supply the wants of an 
individual, much less those of a family. Johnson la- 
boured under die utmost pecuniary distress ; and meet- 
ing with Savage, a man of genius, and equally unfor- 
tunate, their common 'misery endeared them to each 
other. He offered his tragedy to the stage, but it was 
reject<?d^; and even his exquisite poem entitled " Loiv 
don,*' imitated from Juvenal, with difficulty he could 
get accepted for publication. No sooner, however, 
was it read than admired : ^nd if it was not a source 
of great emolument^ it certainly made Johnson known 
as an author by profession ; and facilitated the accept- 
ance of other performances which, in the sequel, he 
sent int-o the world. 

Still his mind revolted at the idea of a precarious de* 
pendance on the profits of authorship ; and he endea- 
voured, but in vain, to obtain the mastership <Df the 
grammar-school of Appleby, in Leicestershire^ Pope 
himself, unknown and unsolicited, wished to serve him 
. in this affair ; but he could not succeed, and the busi- 
ness was dropped. He then made an attempt to be admit- 
ted at Doctors' Commons, but here too he failed ^ and 
being thus frustrated In every endeavour at meliorating 
his /situation, he began to acquiesce in the drudgery of 
autliorship ; and seems to iiave adopted the resolutipa 



i^m 



400 t)R. JOHNSON. 

'o£- attempting to write himself into notice, by an attack 
upon government. His Marmor Norfolcensc^ or " Nor- 
folk Marble/* was published to vent his spleen against the 
Brunswick succession, and the adherents and ministers 
of that illustrious family. It gratified his own political 
prejudices, and gained him the favour of men of simi- 
lar principles ; but exposed htm to the danger of a pro- 
secution. 

Passing over that checkered scene of his life in which 
he may be described as a stipendiary of Cave, we come 
to a period wh6n he soared to a higher flight in litera- 
'ture ; and fully confident of his own powers, which 
had gradually been developed and slowly rewarded, 
assumed the rank to which he had long been eminently 
entitled in the republic of letters. 

In \^¥^ he engaged as a critic and commentator on 
Shakspeare ; and published the plan of his great Eng- 
lish Dictionary, addressed to lord Chesterfield in a strain 
f>f dignified compliment. The original hint of this 
great work is said to have been suggested by Dodsley ; 
and that respectable literary character and bookseller, 
with several others of the profession, contracted for Its 
execution, at the price of fifteen hundred guineas. 

His friend Garrick, by his transcendant theatrical abi- 
lities, had now raised himself to the situation of joint 
patentee and manager of Drury-lane theatre ; and under 
his patronage, the long dormknt tragedy of Irene was 
brought upon the stage. But the pompous phraseology 
and brilliant sentiments of Johnson were not colloquial 
enough for the drama. He displayed more art than na- 
ture, more description than pathos ; and consequently 
his tragedy was but coolly received by the public. The 
author, however, had sense enough to perceive that his 
talents did not lie in this direction ; he acquiesced in. 
the decision of the public, and ceased to waste his time 
and labour on a species of composition for which na* 
ture had act adapted him. 



DR. JOHNSON* 401 

During the time that he was engaged on his Dictio- 
nary, to relieve the tedium of uniform attention to one 
object, he brought out his Rambler ; a work contain- 
ing the purest morals and justest sentiments, and on 
which alone his reputation as a fine writer and a good 
man may safely be rested. At first, however, It was far 
from being popular : but Johnson persevered with a 
laudable fortitude, conscious of its merits ; and he had 
afterwards the pleasure to see it run through many edi-. 
tions, and even to be translated into foreign lan- 
guages. 

Soon after those excellent essays were closed, he lost 
his wife ; an event which threw him into the greatest 
aflllction. His friends In general, from her character 
and behaviour, were disposed to ridicule what in many 
would have been deemed a feigned sorrow : but John- 
son felt all the poignancy of sincere grief, as is evident 
from his always commemorating tlie day of her death 
^ as a kind of religious fast. 

Mis dictionary \^^s now about to appear ; and lord 
Chesterfield, sensible of neglecting the person who had, 
in the first Instance, claimed the honour of his patronage, 
paved the way for its favourable reception with the pub- 
lic, by two essays in the periodical paper called The 
World, expressly devoted to Its praise. His lordship, 
no doubt, expected that launching those two little cock- 
boats, as Johnson contemptuously term.ed them, to as- 
sist him when he was now in port, would obliterate the 
remembrance of past neglect, and procure him the im- 
mortal honour of a dedication. But the di^ifiedlexl 



t)* 



SI- 



cographer saw through the artifice ; and in a keen let- 
ter rejected the advances of his lordship, and thereW 
afforded a noble lesson to ungracious patrons and In- 
sulted authors. After some expressions of general ac- 
knowledgment, this epistle ran in the following sarcas- 
tic strain : 

" Seven years, my lord, have now passed since I 
s 2 



402 DR. JOHNSON. 

waited m your outward rooms, or was repulsed from 
your door ; during which time I have been pushing on 
fny work through difficulties of which it is useless to 
complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of 
pubhcation, without one act of assistance, one word of 
.encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment 
J did not expect, for T never had a patron before. 

" Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with uncon- 
cern on a man struggling for his life in the water, and 
when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help ? 
The notice which you have been pleased to take of my 
labours, had it been early, would have been kind : but 
it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot en- 
joy It ; till I am solitary, and cannot, impart it ; till I am 
known, and do not want it. I hop.e therefore it; is no 
very cynical asperity, not to confess obligations where 
no benefit has been received ; or to be unwilling that 
the public should consider me as owing that to a pa- 
tron, which Providence has enabled me to du, for my- 
self." 

This stupendous monument of labour, talents and 
genius, was published in May 1755 ; and his amiable 
friend Mr. Wharton procured him the degree of maser 
of arts to grace tlie title-page. Notv/ithstaading ^few 
blunders, which Johnson Imd anticipated might exist, 
it was ir^stantly received with gratitude and congratu- 
liition ; and though the labour of an individual, it was 
'deservedly compared with the united efForls. of the forty 
French academicians, who had produced a similar work. 
To this his friend Garrick alludes in a complimentary 
epigram which concludes witli tliis couplet : 

And Johnson well arm'd, like a_hero of yore, 
Has beat forty French, and will beat forty more.' 

But though he li^d now reared his fame on an ada- 
mantine basis, and was flattered by the great and list^ 
ened to by the le^irned, he v/as not able to emerge from i 



DR. JOHNSON. 403 

poverty and depend ince. It is recorded that he was 
arrested for a debt of live guineas in the following year, 
and' obliged to his friend Mr. Samuel Richardson for" 
his liberation. By the labours of >T5 pen he was barely 
able to prtVvide for the day that was passing over his head; 
His Idler produced hitn a temporary supply; and 
Rasselas, which he composed with unexampled rapi- 
dity to discharge some debts left by his mother, who 
died in extreme old age, he sold for a hundred pounds. 
At last, in 1762, royal munificence raised him above 
tiie drudgery of an author by profession ; and fixed 
him in the enjoyment of learned ease, or only volun- 
tary labour. He received a pension of three hundred 
pounds a year, as a reward for his past productions, 
which had been so honourable to his country, and use- 
ful to mankind. For this patronage he was indebted 
to a family for whom he had shown no affection, and 
to the generous recommendation of two men to whose 
country he had contracted a singular antipathy. The 
late lordRcslyn and lord Bute v/ere the organs and the 
origin of his majesty's bounty. Against lor4 Bute, in 
particular, he had joined in the popular cry of indiscri- 
ihinating invective ; and thus <' even-handed Justice^' 
compelled him to an awkward, though not unpleasant 
penance, for indulging in a splenetic prejudice, equally 
ir^worthy of a scholar and a gentleman. 

On becoming a pensioner, a word which he had en- 
deavoured to render odious by the ex^)lanation he affixed 
to it ia his Dictionary, he was exposed to the invective 
or the raillery of his literary opponents ; but it must 
be allowed that a pension was never better bestowed, 
nor did his future conduct disgrace his former princi- 
ples. On several subsequent occasions, indeed, he de- 
fended government as a party writer ; but it was only 
' w^hen the subject corresponded with his political princi- 
ples, or w^hen his natural and unbiassed sentiments of 
equity drew him into the contest. 



^4^ DR. JOHNSON. 

Being now In possession of fame and a moderate in- 
dependance, he gave full scope to the natural philan- 
thropy of his heart, and extended his beneficence to the 
less favoured and the less fortunate. The circle of his 
acquaintances was enlarged ; and he took peculiar de- * 
liglxt in a literary club which he had contributed to 
esKiblish, and which met weekly at the Turk's-head in 
GerrardrStreet Soho. 

The year 1765 brought him several honours and ad- 
vancag'cs. The university of Dublin complimented. 
him vvnth the degree of doctor of laws ; and he had the 
good fortune, about the same tim.e, to contract an ac- 
quaintance with the family of Mr. Thrale, in which 
he afterwards spent the happiest hours of his life. The 
same year he had an interview with his majesty, in the 
queen's library. The king asked him, " if he intended 
to publish any more works ?" Johnson modestly answer- 
ed, " that he thought he had written enough.'' " And 
so should I too," replied the king, " if you had not 
•uTitten so well." No author ever received a juster 
compliment from royalty, and Dr. Johnson seems to 
have been duly sensible ^of it. But compliment now 
was the natural incense which he expected ; and for 
m^ny years before his death, he received from the world 
that unqualified praise which is seldom paid before the 
grave. His fame was too well established in the public 
opinion to be shaken by obloquy, or shared by a rival ; 
his company was universally courted ; liis peculiarities 
were overlooked orforgotten in the adrnirati-on of his su- 
perior talents ; and his foibles were lost in the blaze of 
virtues. His views expanding witli his situation, ic is 
said that he had the ambition even of procuring a seat 
in parliament : but in this he failed, and perhaps justly ; 
for it is probable that he would have been too dogmati- 
cal in the senate, and too impatient of contradiction, 
to observe the decorum of debate. 

In a^utumn 1,773 he iQade a jorimey into Scotland, in 



DR. JOHNSON. 405 

company with his friend Mr. Boswell : and his obser- 
vations in this excursion, which he published soon aftec, 
evinced great strength of mind, comprehensive know- 
ledge of mankind, and no inconsiderable share of that 
prejudice which he had indulged against the Scotch till 
it had become involuntary^ His remarks on Ossian in- 
volved him in an angry dispute with Mr. Macpherson, 
who even threaiened him with corporal chastisement ; 
and to whom in return he addressed a letter in the 
warmest style of contemptuous superiority. " Any 
violence offered to me," said he indignantly, " I shall 
do my best to repel ; and what I cannot do for myself, 
the law shall for me. I hope I shall never be deterred 
from detecting Avhat I think a cheat, by the menaces of 
a ruffian." 

The personal prowess of Johnson indeed had not been: 
small. On a former occasion he knocked down Os- 
borne the bookseller, w^ho had been insolent to him ; 
and he now provided himself v/ith an oak plant which 
might have served for the rafter of a house, to protect 
himself from the expected fury of the translator of Os^ 
sian. 

In the year 1775 he visited France, in company with 
Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. The people of that country 
were lost in astonishment at the contemplation of his 
figure, his manners, and his dress ; which probably re- 
minded tliem of an ancient cynic philosopher risen fronr 
his grave. The same year his own university confer- 
red on him the degree of doctor of laws, the highest 
honorary compliment v/hich it can bestow. 

In 1777 he undertook the Lives of the English poets, 
which he completed in I7S1. " Some time in March," 
says he in his Meditations, " I finished the Lives of the 
Poets : which I wrote in my usual way, dilatorily and 
hastily ; unwilling to work, but working with vigour 
and haste.*' Though now upwards of seventy years of 
age, yet in this last great work, which is a most cor- 



406 BISHOP LOWTH. 

rect specimen of literary biography, he betrays no de- 
cline of powers, no deficiency of spirit. 

The palsy, asthma, and incipient dropsy, soon after 
began to shew that he was verging to his dissolution. 
Though truly religious, though the Scriptures had been 
his study and tlie rule of his conduct, he contemplated 
his end with fear and apprehension ; but when the last 
struggle approached, he summoned up the resolution 
of a christian; and on the 13th of December, 1784; 
died full of hope, and strong in faith. His remains 
were interred in Westminster-abbey ; and a monument 
has since been erected to his memory in St. Paul's cathe- 
dral, with an appropilate Latiti inscription by the learn- 
ed Dr. Parr. His collected works were published in 
eleven volumes, octavo, by his friend sir John Haw- 
kins ; and anotlier and more perfect edition, in twelve 
volumes, by the late Mr* Murphy. 



ROBERT LOWTH, 

BISHOP OF LONDON, 

Born 1710— Died 1787. 
Fro7n Sth Jnne, to Tith George II L . 

GTTEN has the mitre of London been placed on 
igisullied brows ; but has seldom fallen to the lot of a 
man who united so rare an assemblage of all that was 
good in the christian, and great in the scholar, as Ro- 
bert Lowth. 

This illustrious prelate was the son of William Lowth, 
prebendary of Winchester ; and was born in that city, 
in the year 1710. His father was eminent as a scholar, 
but still more distinguished as a pious and worthy man ; 
so that the virtues and talents of his offspring might 
well be considered as hereditary, only that a double 
portion of the father's spirit rested on the son. 



BISHOP LOWTH. 



407 



At the celebratecf seminary of Winchester, founded by 
William of Wykeham, he received his grammatical edu- 
cation ; and some time before he left school, he dis- 
played his genius and taste by some beautiful compo- 
sitions. His poem on the Genealogy of Christ, as 
painted on the window of Winchester-college chapel, 
first made him known in the train of the mus^s : and 
this was followed by another on Catherine-hill, the scene 
of youthful pastime to the Wykehamites ; a subject 
wliich must have been endeared to Lowth by the recol- 
lection of Tnany a happy hour spent there, devoid of- 
ambition and of care. 

His scholastic attainments, however, were not con- 
fined to poetry. Though, as the greatest and the best 
of men have frequently done, he employed it for the 
relief of severer studies, his attention was not diverted 
from those more serious pursuits which are requisite to 
complete the character of the scholar. He not only ac- 
quired a critical knowledp'e of the Latin and Greek 

■I o 

classics, but added an uncommon acquaintance with 
Oriental literature ; which, opening the treasures of sa-- 
cred lore, attracted and fixed his attention on biblical 
criticism,- in which he afterwards shone with unrivalled 
Itistre. 

From Winchester he removed to New-college Oxford, 
and in due course obtained A fellowsliip upon that fouTi- 
dation ; which he vacated in the tVN^enty-s'econd yeal^of 
his age, by marrying a lady of Christchurch in Kamp-- 
shire. 

Such an early erigagc-ment, interrupting the course' 
of academic studies too soon, might have been fatal to 
the prospect of a man whose attairiinents v/ereless ma- 
ture, and whose manners were less calculated to ^'attract 
admiration and gain f)atronag^; - To the highest lite- 
rary accomplishments, he joined those amiable exter-- 
nal graces which adorn the character of the gentleman*: . 
and the duke of Devonshire had the good sense to ic« 
s S 



408 BISfiOP LOWtH. 

cognise and r^vard them, by appointing him tutor to 
his son the- marquis of Hartington ; with whom he 
made the tour of Europe, and discharged the im- 
portant function in such a manner as secured him the fu- 
ture protection of that noble family. 

Having taken the degree of master of arts in 1 73*7, 
he was appointed professor of Hebrew in the university 
f:>f Oxford four years afterwards ; when he delivered 
his admirable lectures on the sacred poetry of the He- 
brev/s, which place him in the first rank of eminence as 
a critic. 

It was the good fortune of Lowth to obtain the pa- 
tronage of Dn Hoadley bishop of Winchester, at ani 
early period of his life ; and to this amiable and able 
prelate he was indebted for his first preferment, which 
was the rectory of Overton, and afterwads for that of 
East Woodhay, both in Hampshire. The same zea- 
Jons patron also appointed him archdeacon of Winclies- 
ter in the year 1750 ; and being now in the high road 
to preferment by the kindness of Providence and the 
regard of his friends, his own merit rendered his fu- 
ture promotion neither doubtful nor distant. 

in 1754' he obtained the degree of doctor in divinity 
hj diploma, from his' university ; and the following 
year, on the appointment of his noble pupil the marquis 
of Hartington to be lord-lieutenant of Ireland, Dr. 
Lowth accompanied him as first chaplain, and soon 
after was offered the bishopric of Limeric. But the 
attractions of a mitre in the sister kingdom were at 
that time less powerful than the endearments of fa- 
mily connections, and literary pursuits, in his native 
country ; and he exchanged the see for a prebend of 
Durham, and the rectory of Sedgefield in that dio- 
cese. 

In 175S Dr. Lowth preached a visitation-sermon be^ 
fore the bishop cf Durham ; which was afterv/ards 
printed, and has been much admired for tl\e liberal 



BI^OP LOWTH. 409 

spirit which it breathes. A few short extracts, as de- 
veloping the sentiments of such an eminent man at 
that period of his life, may be properly introduced here. 
*' Christianity," observes this eloquent preacher, " was 
published to the world in the most enlightened age ; it 
invited and challenged the examination of the ablest 
judges, and stood the t€st of the severest scrutiny ; 
the more it is brought to the light, to the greater ad- 
vantage will it appear. When, on the other hand, the 
dark ages of barbarism came on, as every art and sci- 
ence was almost extinguished, so was Christianity in 
proportion oppressed and overwhelmed by error and 
superstition ; and they that pretended to defend it from 
the assaults of its enemies by prohibiting examination 
and free inquiry, took the surest method of cutting oiF 
all hopes of its recovery. Again, when letters revived, 
and reason regained her liberty ; when a spirit of in- 
quiry began to prevail, and was kept up and promoted 
by a happy invention, by which the communication of 
kjaowledge was wonderfully facilitated ; Christianity 
immediately emerged out of darkness, and was in a 
manner republished to the world in its native simplicity. 
It has always flourished or decayed together with learn- 
ing and liberty : it wiH ever stand or fall with them. 
Let no man be alarmed at the attempts of atheists or 
infidels : let them produce their cause ; let them bring 
forth their strong reasons, to their own confusion : af- 
ford them not the advantage of restraint, the only ad- 
vantage which their cause permits of; let them not 
boast the false credit of supposed arguments, and pre- 
tended demonstrations, which they are forced to sup- 
press. Wha-: has been the consequence of all that li- 
centious contradiction, with which the gospel has been 
received in these our times, and in this nation ? Hath 
it not given birth to such irrefragable apologies, and 
convincing illustrations, of our most holy religion, as 
no other age or nation ever produced ? — Where free- 



410 



BISHOP JLOWTH. 



dom of inquiry is maintained and exercised under the 
direction of the sincere word of God, falsehood may 
perhaps triiimph for a day ; but to-morrow truth will 
certainly prevarl, and every succeeding day will confirm 
her superiority." 

To controvert the opinions of such an eminent divine, 
may appear arrogance ; but an unlimited right of dis- 
cussion in the common language, is not perhaps unat- 
tended with danger. Where the genuine lov-e of trtith 
is the object of pursuit, God forbid that the liberty of 
the press should ever be restrained ! but whei'e cavils are 
raised merely to entrap the ignorant, aiid objections a 
thousand times refuted are vamped up anew to poison 
the unreflecting, a wise man will pause before he gives 
his assent to unrestrained discussion, and a good man 
will hesitate to indulge it. 

The fame of Dr. Lowth as an elegant v/riter and a 
biblical critic, was now supreme. Utility or ornament 
was conspicuous in all his publications^, from his Lec- 
tures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews, to his 
Short Introduction to English Grammar ; and truth 
v/as adorned with all die embellishments of diction, and 
all the force of argument. His Life of William of 
Wykeham, the founder of the college in which he had 
^•eceived his education, may be considered as a tribute 
of gratitude to the memory of that beneficent patron of 
literature ; and will exalt the character of the person 
who paid it, in the estimation of every-man of moral 
sentiment. His controversy with Warburton, bishop 
of Gloucester, was carried en with liberality and some 
sm-art raillery on his part ;,• but Warburton, though a 
strenuous and real defender of Christianity, could never 
dispute without indulging a. spirit of acrimony. 

Dr. Lowth Vv-as raised to the mitre in 1766, and \vas 
consecrated bishop of St. David's; but a few months 
after was translated to the see of Oxford, and in 1777 
to that of London.. 



m 



BISHOP LOWTH. 411 

The year afer he entered on this last bishopric he 
published his New Translation of Isaiah ; with a preli- 
minary dissertation, and a variety of learned notes. No 
person was better qualified for this arduous task, and 
none could have executed it better. His previous ac- 
quirements, great as they were, undoubtedly were all 
called into action on this occasion ; and the learned in 
every part of Europe have re-echoed the applauses of 
his countrymen on the execution of this elaborate work, 
which will transmit his name with honour to remote 
posterity. 

Amidst the unclouded sunshine of prosperity, the best 
qualities of the heart are frequently obscured. It is 
affliction that tries our" faith, and improves our virtues. 
Afterbisliop Lovv^th had risen to deserved preferment, 
and in point of temporal good could have no more- to 
ask, it pleased the Supreme Dispenser of all to exercise 
his patience by some of the severest trials that human 
nature c<\\-\ undergo. As he advanced in years, he was 
harassed by a cruel and i-ncurable disorder ; and to in- 
crease his calamity, he sutrered some of tlie most af- 
flictive dispensations of Providence. His eldest daugh- 
ter, of whom he was passionately fond, had been car- 
ried off by a premature fate, and on her tomb he en- 
graved his affection. The classical scholar will read 
these very beautiful Latin lines with a plaintive plea- 
sure ; and the English reader will not be displeased 
w^Ith the translation subjoined, though far inferior to 
the graces of the original : 

Cara, vale! ingenlo prxstans, pletate, pudore, 

Et pliisquam natai nomine cara, vale! 
Qara Maria, vale ! at veniet felicius sevum, 

Quando Iterum tecv.m, sim modo dignus, ero, 
*'Cara, redi ;*^ loeta turn dicamvoce, ** paternos . 

" Eja a^e in amplexus, cara Maria ! redf.'^ 

Dearer than daughter,- parallerd bv few 
In genius^ goodness, modesty, — ^adieu ! 



412 BISHOP LOWTH. 

Adieu, Maria 1 till that day more blesty 
When, if deserving, I with thee shall rest. 
** Come," then thy sire will cry, in joyful strain, 
" Oh ! come to my paternal arms again.'* 

The loss of his second daughter was most impres- 
sively awful. As she was presiding at his tea-table, 
and was going to place a cup of coffee on the salver, 
*' Take this,'' said she, « to the bishop of Bristol/' 
Immediately the cup and her hand dropped on the 
salver, and she expired without a groan. 

The venerable bishop bore all with pious resignation, 
and his character gained new lustre from his christian 
magnanimity. Before this last stroke, he had be€n of- 
fered the primacy, on the death of archbishop Corn- 
waUis ; but he was already weaned from the pursuits of 
ambition, though he continued to perform the duties of 
his station with exemplary prudence and propriety. 
At last, in 1787> he was released from " the burden of 
the flesh ;" and left this world, in " the sure and certain 
hepe of a Letter." 

To the public character of bishop Lowth, it Is to be 
regretted that more numerous private details cannot be 
added. But his learning and taste arc abundantly ex- 
emplified in his works. He loved the arts with enthu- 
siasm, and possessed a truly poetical Imagination. The 
character of his conversation was elegance, suavity, and 
unaffected ease. In his temper, he is said to have felt 
that warmth cf susceptlbihty which is the constant 
concomitant of genius; and his disposition is pour- 
trayed as mere inclinable to the serious than the 

i le was of the middle stature, and extremely well pro- 
portioned. His complexion was fair and florid, and his 
whole aspect remarkably animated and expressive. He 
left a son and a daughter, and was privately interred 
in a vault of Fulham church. 



( 413 ) 
JOHN HOWARD. 

Born 1726— Died 1790. 

From \2th George Li to 30th George III. 

And now, Philanthropy, thy rays divine 

Dart round the globe from Zembia to theXine; 

O'er each dark prison plays the cheering light, 

JLike northern lustres o*er the vault of night. 

From realm to realm, with cross or crescent crown'd, 

Where'er mankind and^sery are found, 

O'er burning sands, deep waves, or wilds of snow, 

Thy Howard journeying seeks the house of woe. 

Down many a v/inding step to dungeons dank. 

Where anguish wails aloud and fetters clank. 

To caves bestrew'd with many a mouldering bone. 

And cells whose echoes only learn to groan ; 

Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, 

No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blov^^s ; 

He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, 

Profuse of toil, and prodigal of health ; 

With soft assuasive eloquence expands 

Power's rigid heart j and opes his clenching hands ; 

Leads stern-ey'd Justice to the dark domains, 

If not to sever, to relax tlie chains ; 

Or guides awaken'd Mercy through the gloomj 

And shews the prison sister to the tomb ; 

Gives to her babes the self-devoted wife> 

To her fond husband liberty and life ! 

The spirits of the good, who bend from high 
Wide o'er these earthly scenes their partial eye. 
When first, array 'd in Virtue's purest robe, 
They saw her Howard traversing the globe; 
Saw round his brov/s her sun-like glory blaze. 
In arrov/y circles of unwearied rays : 
iMi-^took a mortal for an angel-guest. 
And ask'd what seraph-fobt the earth impress'd. 
Onward he moves I Disease and Death retire; 
And murmuring daemons hate him, and admire. 

Darwin. 



414 JOHN HOWARD. 

JOHN HOWAPvD, the great philanthropist, who, 
copying the divine example of Christ, <^ went about 
doing good," was born at Hacknev. His father was 
very respectably connected ; and engaging in trade, kept 
a warehouse in Long-lane, Smithfield, He died early, 
leaving his son under the care of guardians. Not being 
intended for a learned profession, he received only an or- 
dinary education : but the strength of his mind, and 
tlie steadiness of his perseverance, made up the defi- 
ciency ; and he wrote in his native tongue on subjects 
which have gained him a juster^ reputation than the 
mere scholar can ever expect. 

Concerning his early habits, though his character has 
been so minutely scrutinized, very little isknown. The 
marked propensities of the mind, however, appeared- 
at very d liferent periods, accordingly as occasion called 
them into action. This will be illustratedin the subse- 
quent memoirs. 

Having, in the opinion of his guardians, acquired a- 
proper education for the trade to which they had des- 
tined him^ he was apprenticed to an eminent wholesale • 
grocer in London : bat the delicicy of his constitution 
proving unequal to the toils of business ;. and the cir- 
cumstances in which his father had left liimand an only 
sister, rendering it unnecessary for him to persevere in 
trade to the injury of his healtli ; he bought out the 
last part of his indentures, and made a tour on the\ con- 
tinent. 

On his return he took lodgings at Stoke Newington, 
at the house of Mrs. Lardeau'; a sensible good wom.an, 
but who had been an invalid for m.any years. Having 
thus felt the misery of ill health herself, she sympathized 
with others. Howard's constitution w.iSr not yet con- 
firmed or recovered from the effects of confinement du- 
ring his apprenticeship ; and in his landlady he met with 
a tender and attentive nurse. At length her assiduities 



" JOHN HOWARD. 415 

eonquered his heart; and though -old enough to be his 
mother, and broken by Infirnnties, he made her an of- 
fer of his hand. The good woman, who had enter- 
tained no views of this nature, and perhaps was sur- 
prised at the proposal, expostulated with him on the 
extravagance of sudi an union. " But it was not the cha- 
racter of Mr. Howard to be deterred from his purpose 
by the dread of obloquy or ridicule : and she became 
his wife in 1752, w^hile he generously bestowed the small 
fortune which she possessed on her sister ; a proof that 
interest had no share in the match. 

During his residence at Stoke Newington, he spent 
his time chiefly in improving his mind, and enlarging his 
acquaintance with books. Being entlmsiastic in all his 
pursuits, he was seldom frustrated in his aims ; and he 
furnished himself with a very considerable stock of know- 
ledge, moral, religious, and scientific. It is said that 
he frequently rode out v/ith a book in his pocket, turned 
his horse to graze on a common, and, when the sea- 
son permitted, read several hours with ardour. He 
unquestionably had what may be called eccentricities 5 
perhaps no man of quick sensibility or genius is devoid 
of some : but his were all of the most amiable com- 
plexion, and he had seldom reason to blush for them. 

After three years his wife died, to his real sorrow. 
About this time his philosophical attainments procured 
him the honour of being elected a fellow of the Royal 
Society; and being now disengaged from domestic 
cares he formed the resolution of visiting Lisbon, which 
had then become the object of melancholy attraction by 
the recent earthquake. His friends strenuously dis- 
suaded him from this design, on account of the .danger 
of being taken by the French, with whom we were then 
at war : but their remonstrances were ineffectual, and 
the consequence was as had been predicted; tlie ship 
in which he sailed was captured by one of the enemy's 
privateers, and he was soon after lodged in a French pri- 



416 JOHN HOWARD. 

son. He now felt the miseries df confinement ; the 
latent sympathies of his soul were excited ; and the fu- 
ture direction of his time and his talents, which has 
gained him immortal fame, was probably owing in a 
great measure to this personal misfortune. In hts State 
of the Prisons he says,. " Perhaps what I suffered on 
this occasion increased, if it did not call forth, my sym- 
pathy with the unhappy people whose cause is the sub- 
ject of this book.^' 

Soon after his liberation, he settled at Brokenhurst 
near Lymington, In a most retired and delightful situa- 
tion ; and here in 1758 he married Harriet, only daugh- 
ter of Edvv-ard Leeds, esq. ofCroxton in Cambridgeshire. 
The pleasures of domestic endearment, and those avo- 
cajtions which are peculiar to rural life, seem to have 
occupied the principal share of his attention for some 
succeeding years ; but his lady dying in childbed- of an 
only son in 1765, he was again a widower. Relin- 
quishing his sweet retreat In the New Forest, he now 
purchased an estate at Cardington near Bedford, in 
the vicinity of his relation Mr. Whitbread ; and there 
he determined to settle. 

The philanthropy of his disposition now began to 
display itself by numerous acts of pure benevolence. 
He projected many improvements of his estate ; as 
much to give employment to the poor, as to gratify his 
own taste : he built cottages for some, and others he 
clothed. Industry and sobriety, however, were the 
only recommendations to his favour ; and thus, in a 
moral as well as a charitable view, his conduct became 
exemplary. 

. He had been brought up among the dissenters, and to 
their communion he strictly adhered ; but his benevo- 
lence was neither confined to sect, nor warped by party. 
It is natural to suppose that the dissenters were not a 
little attached to such an amiable member of their so- 
ciety 5 and on their interest he was afterwards, in 1774-, 






JOHN HOWARD. 41? 

ciu unsuccessful candidate as a representative for the bo- 
rough of Bedford. In conjunction with Mr. Whitbread, 
who was also a candidate, he petitioned against the re- 
turn ; but though it w^as amended by declaring his as- 
sociate duly elected, Mr. Howard found his prospects 
delusive. He therefore turned his ambition into an- 
other channel ; where there \v2ie no competitors, and 
his praise would thus be undivided. 

Before he had aspired to a seat in the senate, he had 
rved the office of high-sherilF for the county of Bed* 
lord ; which, as he emphatically observes, " brought 
the distress of prisoners more imm.ediately under his no- 
tice :" and this, reviving the idea of his own captivity, 
led him to form the benevolent design of visiting all 
the prisons, and places of confinement, throughout 
England, for the celestial purpose of alleviating the 
miseries of the sufferers, and meliorating their condi- 
tion. This project, w^hich gave full latitude to the phi- 
lunthrnpy of his heart, he accomplished w^ith indefati- 
gable zeal. Being examined before the house of com- 
mons on the subject of prisons, he received their thanks 
for his exertions I and had the happiness to find that his 
voluntary labours had not been wholly in vain, as they 
excited the attention ©f the legislature, and were in 
some measure productive of the benefits proposed hj 
him. 

To a man of Mr. Howard's enthusiasm, an incentive 
to do good was scarcely necessary : but the encourage- 
ment which he received, operated like a cordial on his 
mind ; and having repeatedly inspected the receptacles 
of crime, of poverty, and misery, throughout Great 
Britain and Ireland, he extended his views to foreign 
countries. With this design, so beautifully pourtrayed 
in the poetical lines prefixed to the present article, he tra- 
velled three times through France, four times through 
Germ.any, Rve times through Holland, twice through - 
Italy, once through Spain and Portugal,and also through 



418 JOHN KOWARll. 

Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Poland, and part of Tur- 
key. , These excursions occupied, with some short m- 
tervals of rest at home, the period of twelve years ; and 
never befoj-e was such a coiislderable portion of an in- 
dividual's life applied to a more benevolent and' lauda- 
ble purpose, without any motive of interest or pl€asure\ 
except the virtuous satisfaction of serving his fellow- crea- 
tures. 

His State of the Prisons in England and Wales, with 
Preliminary Observations, and an Account of som^ 
Foreign Prisons, was first published in 1777; and in 
Appendixes he continued his remarks on the countries 
which he visited I-n succession. Such an aggregate of 
private misery, of insensibility In gaolers, and neglect 
or cruelty in magistrates, was never before exhibited to 
the commiseration or abhorrence of mankind. It has 
been said that his personal safety was endangered 'in 
France, by the spirit w^ith which he exposed its despot- 
ism ; but later inquiries shew, that even the most ac- 
tive ministers of arbitrary power were impressed with 
a reverential regard for the character of the man, and' 
never had it in contemplation to interrupt him in his 
laudable pursuits. 

By the death of his sister unmarried, he gained- a li- 
beral accession of fortune ; which, in his own opinion, 
could not be spent to a better purpose than in the relief 
of poignant misery, shut up from every eye except that 
of the most active benevolence. Though the selfish 
and uncharitable have attempted to blame the profusion 
of his bounty, yet when it Is considered that his only 
son was abundantly provided for, it is impossible to fix 
any charge of thl^ nature on Mr. Howard, w^hich will 
not recoil on his detractors. But the purest conduct 
must not expect to escape the tongue of maliee, for su- 
perior excellence is the butt at which obloquy constantly 
ain^s its darts. 

While engaged on one of hrs last peregrinations of 



JOHN HOWARD. 419 

lov2 and charity to the human race, his singular worth 
had made such an impression on the pubUc mind, that 
a hberal subscription was opened to defray the expense 
of erecting a statue to his honour while yet alive. The 
principles of Howard were abhorrent to ostentation ; 
his services to mankind were not baits for praise. When 
he heard of this scheme, " Have I not," said he, '^ one 
friend in England wIho Vv-ould put a stop to such a pro- 
ceeding ?" Tlie business was accordingly dropped ; but 
to the credit of the subscribers, the money collected was 
principally applred to the relief of captive indigence and 
misfortune. 

An Account of the principal Lazarettos in Europe, 
with various papers relative to the plague, and further 
obsei-vations on prisoiis and hospitals, made its appear- 
ance in 1789. In this publication Mr. Howard an- 
nounced his intention of again quitting his country^ for 
the purpose of revisiting Russia, Turkey, and some 
countries of the East. " I am not insensible," observes 
he, " of the dangers that must attend such a journey. 
Trusting however in the protec lien of that kind Provi- 
dence v/hich has hitherto preserved me, I calnjy and 
cheerfully CO mm/it myself to the disposal of 'unerring 
wisdom. Should it please God to cut oitmy life in the 
prosecution of this design, let not my conduct be un- 
candidly Imputed to rashness or enthusiasm ; but to a 
serious deliberate conviction that I am pursuing the 
path of duty ; and to a sincere desire of being made 
an instrument of more extensive usefulness to my fej- 
Icw-creatures, than could be expected in the narrow cir- 
cle of retired life." The event w^hich his mind seemed 
to presage, and for which he if^id thus prepared him.- 
self by deprecating invidious reflections, actually took 
place. Having spent some time at Cherson, a new 
Russian settlem.ent, w^here the malignity of disease had 
cut off thousands of that nation, as much from igno- 
rance and neglect as from the natural insalubrity of the 



420 JOHN HOWARD. 

place, his benevolenee prompted him to visit a young 
lady who lay dangerously ill of an epidemic fever, in 
order to administer some medicines for her relief; when 
he caught the distemper, and soon became the victim 
of his own humanit}^ Prince Potemkin, hearing of his 
illness, sent his own physician to attend him ; but all in 
vain : the days of his life were Numbered, the measure 
of his labours was complete, and he died after a short 
ccnfineitient. He was buried in the garden of a French 
gentleman in the neighbourhood ; and even in that bar* 
barous country his grave was not unwatered by a tear. 
In Britain his death was heard of with the sincerest re- 
gret : it was announced in the London Gazette, a com- 
pliment which no private subject ever received before ; 
and all ranks were eager to testify their regard to the 
memory of a man who had merited so well of human 
nature in general, and who will ever be an ornament to 
the country that produced him. 

The abstemiousness of Mr. Howard was very great ; 
and to this cause the prolongation of his life amidst in- 
fection and disease, may in a great measure be ascribed. 
He totally avoided the use of animal food ; and at one 
xlme lived almost wholly on potatoes ; at another, on 
tea, bread, and butter. No convivial invitations, how- 
ever honourable, were accepted by him : his only de- 
light consisted in visiiing the abodes of misery, that 
Be might be the happy instrument of alleviating it. 

His monument in St. PauPs cathedral is at once a 
proof of national genius and national gratitude. . The 
inscription tells us, with truth, « that he trod an open 
but unfrequented path to immortality, in tlie ardent and 
unremitted exercise of Christian charity ;^' and con- 
cludes, " May this tribute to his fame Excite an emula- 
don of his truly honourable actions !'* 



( 421 ) 

SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 

Bom 1723— Died 1792. 
From 9th George /., to S2d George III. 

PAINTING may be considered as the most transl- 
tory and confined of the imitative arts, if we except the 
theatrical ; for colours will fade and canvass will pe- 
rish, and the works of the same artist cannot be gene- 
rally known. On the other hand, it may certainly be 
pronounced the most delightful. The brilliancy of 
colouring, the symmetry of form, the grouping of 
figures, the expression of character, and the whole ef- 
fect instantaneously produced by a picture of excel- 
lence, creatcf a sensation which in point of vividness 
-and force cannot be equalled by any other eiFort of 
human genius. Yet this noble art is one of those at- 
tainments In which England was latest to prefer her 
claims. The productions of Apelles and the other ce- 
lebrated painters of remote antiquity, have long since 
sunk under the destroying hand of Time, and per- 
haps even owe a considerable portion of their tradi- 
tional renown to the obscurity which thus envelops 
them. The almost divine masterpieces which Italy has 
produced in later periods, and which still exist to attest 
their own excellence, long seemed to set competition at 
defiance, and inspired in every other nation admiration 
only and despondency, v/lthout inciting even the com- - 
mencement of a course of emulation. But in our ov/n 
country, the present auspicious reign has established a 
new era in the liberal arts ; and to whatever eminence 
we may ultimately attain in that of painting, the sub- 
ject of the present article m.^y with justice claim in- 
comparably the highest rank among the founders of 
the British school. 

The father of sir Joshua Reynolds was master of tl^.^i 



422 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 

grammar-school at Plympton in Devonshire, which 
tuation afforded him only a very moderate -subsistence ; 
and as he was destitute of any ecclesiastical preferment, 
would have made him very unable to provide for afamily 
of eleven children, if five of them had not died in their 
infancy. Joshua, the seventh child, was born at that 
place July 16, 1723^ and was instructed in the classics 
under his father ; who however, being himself fond of 
drawing, encouraged the inclination his son very early 
displayed for the art in which he afterwards became so 
illustrious. The young painter's first attempts were 
made in copying several little things done by two of 
his elder sisters ; and he afterwards took for his subjects 
such prints as he found in his, father's books, particu- 
larly in Dryden's translation of Plutarch's Lives. 
"When he was only eight years of age, he read with 
great avidity a treatise on perspective which hap- 
pened to lie in his father's parlour ; and made himself . 
so completely master of it, that he never afterwards 
had occasion to study any other book on the subject. 
He then made a drawing of his school, w^hich was a 
building raised on stone pillars ; and this he executed 
with such fidelity, that his fiuher was struck with ad- 
miration. From such attempts, he proceeded to draw 
likenesses of the friends and relations of liis family, 
with tolerable success. But w4iat most strongly con- 
firmed him in his love of the art, was the perusal of a 
treatise on painting ; which so delighted and Inflamed 
liis mind, that Raphael now appeared to him superior 
to the most illustrious names of ancient or moderti 
times. 

As his propensity to this fascinating art grew daily 
more evident, his father determined to indulge it : and 
for tiiis purpose, when he was about seventeen years of 
age, placed him as a pupil under a Mr. Hudson; who, 
though but an indliferent painter, was the most distin- 
guished of that time. After spending three years in 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 423 

London, however, he left his master on a slight disa- 
greement, and returned to his native town : a circum- 
stance which he ever after considered as very fortunate ; 
since he was thus led to deviate from the tameness and 
insipidity of Hudson, and form a manner of his own. 
He now passed three years in carelessness and neglect, 
but at last applied himself with increased energy to 
the study and practice of his art. His first perform- 
ance in this situation was the portrait of a military 
officer ; and when long afterwards, at a late period 
of his life, he saw this picture, he was surprised to find 
it so well done. At this time (when he was twenty- 
three years of age) his father died ; and left him with- 
out any inherited fortune, to be the fabricator of his 
own. After spending three years more in the prac- 
tice of painting, partly in London and partly in his 
native county, he became acquainted with lord Edg* 
cumbe and captain (afterwards lord) Keppel, each 
of whom warmly patronised him : and on the latter 
being appointed to the command of a squadron in the 
Mediterranean, Mr. Reynolds accompanied him in his 
voyage ; and finally landing at Leghorn, proceeded 
to Rome. He w^as now in the grand metropolis ^f the 
fine arts ; where Genius had both in ancient and In mo- 
dern times held undisputed sway, andAvhere his imagi- 
nation and his judgment might find the fullest gratifi- 
<:ation. He was dejected, however, to find that the 
works of Raphael did not at once make all the impres- 
sion upon him which he had anticipated, and with a 
becoming difiidence imputed it to his own incapacity 
and want of taste : but on inquiry he soon learnt, that 
this was universally the case with pei^ons of real ge- 
nius ; and that those Avho pretended to instant raptures 
at the first sight of those sublime performances, were 
always miable to appreciate their genuine merit ; as 
their beauties, which justly entitle them to their high 
celebrity, are by no means supeyficial and attractive. 

T 



424 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLrS. 

He did not long continue the usual practice of copy- 
ing tHe great works which w^re now within his reach ; 
but rather employed his time on examining, and fixing 
in his mind, their peculiar and characteristic excellences. 
Instead of merely imitating the touches of the princi- 
pal masters, he aspired to seize their grand conceptions. 
After an absence of three years, he returned to Lon- 
don, when the imxprovement he had made in this pe- 
riod very soon attracted the public notice: and not 
long afterwards a whole-length portrait which he 
painted of his friend and patron admiral Keppel dis- 
^>layed such talents, that he was universally allowed -to 
be not only at the head of his profession, but the 
greatest painter that England had seen since the time 
of Vandyke ; indeed it was questioned which of the 
two was the most excellent. For many years, the 
painters of portraits had contented themselves with 
exhibiting as correct a resemblance as they could ; bat 
seem not to have thouglit, or been capable, of enliven- 
ing the canvas by giving a kind of historical air to 
their pictures. Mr. Reynolds soon deviated from this 
insipid manner^; and besides being very happy in the 
mere likenesses, he penetrated into the minds, habits, 
and manners, of those who sat to him : accordingly the 
majority of his portraits a.re so appropriate and charac- 
teristic, that the illustrious .persons whom he thus re- 
presented will be almost as well known to posterity, as 
if it had lived and conversed with them. 

Soon after his return from Italy, he contracted an 
acquaintance vrith Dr. Johnson, which was occasioned 
by the follov/ing circumstance. Happening to meet 
With Dr. Johnson's Life of Savage, the poet, in Devon- 
shire, he began to read it while standing with his arm 
leaning against a chimney-piece ; and it arrested his 
-attention so stronr;ly, that he was not able to lay down 
the book till he had finished it : when on attempting to 
mqve, he found his arm totally benumbed. As he 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 425 

then did not personally know the author, he naturally 
felt a strong desiie to see and converse with that ex- 
traordinary man ; and soon after found an opportunity - 
of being introduced to him. At their very first meet- 
ing he had the good-.fortune, in the course of conversa- 
tion, to make a remark which struck Johnson so much, 
that the doctor paid particular attention to liim ; and 
wlicn the company broke up, went hom.e' with Mr. 
Reynolds, and supped with him. In consequence of 
this connection our painter, in tlie latter part of the 
3'ear 1759, suppHed his friend with three essays on his 
own art for the Idler; a paper which Johnson was 
then publishing periodically, on the same plan as the 
Spectator and others of that description. These essays 
form numl)ers 76, 79, and 82> ^f that paper ; and were 
Mr. Reynolds's first literary productions. The inti- 
macy thus contracted lasted till the tvv'o friends were 
divided by death. 

A new and brilliant epoch opened in Mr. Reynolds's 
life, when after some premature associations of the art- 
ists among themselves, his majesty v/as pleased^ in 
December 1768, to incorporate by charter the Royal 
Academy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture ; 
to be com.posed of the ablest and most respectable art- 
ists resident in Great Britain. On this occasion Mr. 
Reynolds, as he unquestionably held the first rank in 
liis profession, was appointed the president ; and soon - 
afterwards received the honour of knighthood. It was 
a pan of the plan of the new institution, that its ex- 
pcnces were to be supported by the produce of an an- 
nual exhibition of works of art, or the deficiency to be 
supplied out of the king's privy purse. For a fev/ years 
it required the assistance of liis majesty's bounty, \^Txb 
at var;ious times was graciously pleased to advance in 
this manner above five thousand pounds : but the exhi- 
bition becoming more profitable, in a short time was 
Tiore than adequate to maintain the establishment ; and 
T 2 - 



426 «IR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 

it still happily continues to furnish annually a cheap 
and exquisite gratification to the lovers of the elegant 
arts, "and to inspire and widely extend a taste for culti- 
vating and patronising them* 

In the situation of president of the Royal Academy, 
sir Joshua voluntarily imposed upon himself the task 
fof delivering periodically lectures to the academicians 
on his ait ; and thus produced fifteen Discourses be- 
tween the years 1769 and 1790, which contain such a 
body of just criticism on that difficult subject, clothed 
in elegant language, as will ensure his immortal 
celebrity, no less than the works of his pencil. 
During this period, in 1773, the university of Oxford 
honoured him with the degree of doctor of laws. 
After the publication of the first seven of these Dis- 
courses, the empress of Russia, who was tlie general 
and munificent patron of talents, was so pleased with 
the perusal of them, that she sent sir Joshua a gold 
box with a bas-relief of her majesty on the lid, set 
round with diamonds, inclosing a note written with 
her owTi hand. He had before been commissioned Uy 
paint for her imperial majesty an historical picture, on 
any subject which he should choose ; and on this occa- 
sion he painted the Infant Hercules strangling the 
serpents in his cradle. For this })icture the empress, 
after his death, sent his executors fifteen hundred gui- 
neas. 

Sir Joshua was ever active and assiduous in his en- 
couragement of the annual exhibitions ; to which, be- 
tween the years 17^^*9 and 1790, he sent no less than 
two hundred and forty-four of his own performances. 
During this brilliant career, his profession did not per- 
mit him often to make excursions from London, In 
the summer, however, he at different times visited the 
seats of some distinguished noblemen and gentlemen, 
and occasionally spent a few days at his own villa on 
Richmond-hill ; but was always glad on returning to 



SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 427 

a town life, to which he was particularly attached. In 
the year 1781 he went over to the Netherlands and 
Holland, in order to view the most celebrated produc- 
tions of the pahiters of those countries ; and the fruit 
of this journey was a very pleasing Account of it, 
with masterly critical observations on the pictures 
which he had examined. His own pieces too, after 
this period, were still more excellent than before. 

In 1783, tlie late Mr. Mason having finished an ele- 
gant translation of Dufresnoy's Art of Painting, sir 
Joshua enriched it with an ample and ingenious com- 
mentary ; which, together with the poem itself, may 
be said to comprise the w^iole science and practice of 
painting. In the ensuing year he was appointed prin- 
cipal painter in ordinary to his majesty ; and on St. 
Luke's day (the patron saint of painters) was pre- 
sented with the freedom of the painters' company. 

Finding how little time he could spare from his pro- 
fession for the purpose of acquiring general knowledge 
fiom books, sir Joshua very early and wisely resolved 
to partake as much as possible of the society of all the 
ingenious and learned men of his time ; a practice which 
he has strongly recommended to other artists, in one of 
his Discourses : and in consequence of this, and of his 
convivial habits, his table for above thirty years exhi- 
bited an assemblage of all the talents of Great Britain 
and Ireland ; there being during that period scarcely a 
person in the three kingdoms distinguished for attain- 
ments in literature or the arts^ or for exertipns at the 
bar, in the senate, or the field, who, was not occasion- 
ally found there. The pleasure and instruction which 
he derived from such company, induced him in the year 
1764, in conjunction with I|.r. Johnson, to establish the 
Literary Club ; which still exists, and has included in 
the list of its members many of the most celebrated 
characters of the present age. 

From the time of his return from Italy, sir Joshu« 



428 SIR JOSHUA RE YNOLDS. 

had the misfortune to be very deaf; a complamt 
which was occasioned by his catching cold in the palace 
of the Vatican, by painting for a long time near a stove, 
which attracting the damp vapours of that building, 
these affected his head. When in company with only 
one person indeed, he could hear tolerably: but at 
other times was obliged to use an ear-trumpet to ena- 
ble him to partake the conversation of his friends ; and 
such was the serenity of his temper, that what he did 
not at once hear, he never troubled those with whom 
he conversed to fepeat. To these circumstances Gold* 
smith alludes, in drawing his character in the form df an 
epitaph during sir Joshua's life-timei in the following 
lines : 

Here Reynolds is laid ; and, to tell you my mind, 

He has not kft a wiser or better bfhi$id. 

His per^cil was striking, resistless, and grand ; 

His maimers were gentle, complying, and bland. 

i^itiil born to im.prove us in every part ; 

Kis pencil our faces, his manners our heart. 

To coxcombs averse ; yet, most civilly steering, 

When they judg'd v.'ithout skill he was still hard of hearing': 

When they talked of their Raphaels, Corregios, and stuHT, 

He shifted his trumpet, and only took snufK 

Sir Joshua had now attained a height in fdmo and 
fortune, unequalled by any former painter of this coun- 
try ; and his celebrity was spread over every part of t}ie 
civilized world. For a very long period, he enjoyed 
an uninterrupted state of good health : to which his 
custom of painting standing (first introduced by him) 
certainly contributed; as he thus escaped the disorders 
incident to a sedentary hfe. In July 1789 he for the 
first time perceived his sigh^jt^so much affected, -that he 
found it difficult to proceed in a portrait on which he 
" was engaged ; and in a few months, in spite of the aid 
of the most skilful oculists, he was entirely deprived of 
the sight of his left eye. After some attempts, he de- 



.VIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 429" 

tPrmlned to piiint no more lest his other eye should also 
become affected ; a resolution which deprived him of 
an employment he loved more for its own sake than tor 
■le great emolument which it brought him. Siill he 
retained his usual spirits, was amused by reading or by 
hearing others read to him, and partook of the society 
of his friends wirh the same pleasure as before. In the 
latter part of the year 1791, however, he became afllicted 
with a disorder of the liver ; which after a confinement 
of three months, supported wdth an ecjuanimity rarely 
displayed, carried him off on the 23d of February 1792, 
in the sixty-ninth year of his age. He was buried in 
St. Paul's cathedral, wnth every honour that could be 
shewn to genius and to worth by a grateful and en- 
lightened nation, near the spot where was formerly in- 
terred his great predecessor Vandyke. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds was in stature rather under the 
middle size ; of a florid complexion, and a lively and 
pleasing aspect ; wVll-made, and extremely active. His 
appearance at first sight impressed the spectator with 
the idea of a well-born and well-bred English gentle- 
man.. With an uncommon equability of temper, lie 
possessed a constant flow of spirits, which rendered 
him at all times a m.ost pleasing companion ; and in 
conversation his m>anner was perfectly natural, simple, 
and unassuming. His professional reputation stands 
on a solid and durable basis; and in one department 
of his art it has been forcibly declared by a competent 
judge, that the exuberance of his invention will be the 
grammar of futufe painters of portraits. In the exerci::^3 
of his talents he was indefatigably assiduous ; and, to 
use the w^ords applied by Dr. Johnson to Pope, " He 
was one of those few whose labour is their pleasure : 
he was never elevated into negligence, nor wearied to 
impatience ; he never passed a fault uncorrected by in- 
difference, nor quitted it by despair. He laboured Iiis 



430 3^1 R JOSHUA REYNOLD Sv 

works first to gain reputation, and afterwards to keep 
it/* 

His friend Mr. Burke, with whom be lived tn great 
intimacy for above thirty years, has summed up bis 
character in an affectionate tribute to bis memory, from 
which the following passages are e:xtracted» " Sir 
vToshua Reynolds was, on very many acc;)unts, one of 
the most memorable men of his time. He was the first 
Englishman who ?*dded the praise of the elegant arts 
to the other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, 
in faGility, in happy invention, and in the richness and 
harmony of colouring, he was equal to the great mas- 
ters of the renowned ages. In portraits be went beyond 
them ;, for be communicated to that description of the 
art, in which English artists are most engaged, ^ 
variety, a fancy, and a dignity, derived from tlie higlier 
branches, which even those who professed them rn a 
superior manner did not always preserve when they de- 
iineated individual nature. His portraits remind the 
spectator of the invention of history, and the amenity 
of landscape. In painting portraits be appeared i^t 
to be raised upon that platform, but to descend to it 
from a higher sphere. His paintings illustrate his les- 
sons, and his lessons seem to be derived from his paint- 
ings. 

" In full affluence of foreign and domestic fame, ad- 
mired by the expert in art and by the learned in science* 
courted by the great, caressed by sovereign powers, and 
celebrated by distinguished poets ; his iiative humility, 
modesty, and candour, never forsook him, even on sur- 
prise or provocation i nor was. the least degree of arro- 
gance or assumption viable to the most scrutinizing 
eye, in any part of bis conduct or discourse. 

" His talents of every kind, powerful from nature 
and not meanly cultivated by letters ; his social virtues 
in all the relations and iill the habitudes of life ; ren- 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. * 431 

dered him the centre of a very great and unparalleled 
variety of agreeable societies, which will be dissipated 
by his death. He had too much merit not to excite 
some jealousy ; too much innocence to provoke any 
enmity. The loss of no man of his time can be felt 
with more sincere, general, and unmixed sorrow.'' 

To this elegant eulogium of Burke it is impossible 
to add ; nor does the public at this moment seem in- 
clined to subtract a particle from the praise he has be- 
stowed. 



WILLIAM MURRAY, 

EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

Born 1705— Died 1793. 

Frcrn 3d j^nne, to 32 d George III, 

AMONG the liberal studies, the attainment of ex- 
alted eminence is perh.ips m.ore difficult, and the talents 
which it requires more solid and complicated, in the 
law than in any other ;. and: besides this difficulty, which 
is inherent in the profession itself, the higher the station 
in which its professor is placed, the more consummate 
of course are the qualities required to discharge its du- 
ties with distinction or propriety. Subtlety of argu- 
ment, with a competent share of legal knowledge, may 
confer considerable reputation on a pleader who yet is 
destitute of the far superior qualifications requisite for a 
judge. So multitudinous indeed are the restraints and: 
regulations which a high degree of civilization occa- 
sions, — particularly in a commercial country like this, 
where all the powers of the mind are exerted; both ho- 
nourably and dishonourably, in the acquisition of 
wealth, — that nothing less than the most indefatigable 
perseverance can master the whole of the legal code, and 
T 5 



432 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

Store the mind with the particular rules to be applied to 
every contingent circumstance. Yet the character of the 
judge who is to preside in the first civil court of this 
kingdom, will not be perfect without something still 
higher : he should possess that force of genius which is 
peculiarly the gift of heaven, and which no study can 
supply where nature has been deficient; — that quick in- 
tuitive- glance of the mind which not only darts through 
the obscurities and perplex fty in which the perverse in- 
genuity of contending advocates often envelopes a cause, 
but at once performs the much harder task of disen- 
tangling the intricacies with which the question itself is 
often embarrassed, and elicits a ray of light to make 
the genuine point on which the justice of the case turns 
obvious to a common understanding. One more fea- 
ture is wanting to the perfection of this portrait, namely 
eloquence ; and when these various and splendid quali- 
ties are considered, it will be readily allowed that the 
distinguished sages of the law are amply entitled to the 
admiration and reverence with which they are usually 
contem.plated. All tliese accompli3hments, in as high 
a degree as they were ever possessed in by any miortal 
in the annals of national jurisprudence, adorned the first 
earl of Mansfield ; whom It is the purpose of the pre- 
sent memoir to hold out as a prominent and shining 
example to youthful emulation. 

The honourable William Murray was the eleventh 
child of David viscount Stormont ; and v/as born at, 
Perth in Scotland^ on the 2nd of March 1705. In his 
infancy, however, at the age of three years, he was re- 
moved to London ; and consequently avoided imbibing 
tliat peculiarity of accent%whlch frequently adheres to 
the natives of North' Britain. He was placed as a 
king's-scholar in Westminster-school at the age of four- 
teen, where he gave early proofs of his uncommon abi- 
lities ; not so much in versification as in his other exer- 
cise^ and particularly in his declamations. In his nine- 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. 433 

teenth year he stood first on the list of those young 
gentlemen who were sent to Oxford, and was accord- 
ingly entered of Chrlstchiirch In that university. About 
four years afterwards, he was admitted to the degree of 
bachelor of arts ; and on the deatli of king Geoige the 
First, which happened near this time, he wrote some ele- 
gant Latin verses which were honoured by the univer- 
sity with the first prize. His poetical taints indeed 
were very considerable, though he had the good-sense 
not to cultivate them at the loss of his general or pro- 
fessional studies ; and to this Mr. P.cpe, w^ho was after- 
wards his intimate friend, alludes in the following 
line : 

" How sweet an Ovid was in Murray lost !" 

He also about this time composed a Latin oration m 
praise of Demosthenes ; which was more congenial to 
tlie pursuits he had in view, and exhibited a. strong pre- 
sage of his own future fame. 

Mr. Murray had previously, in the year 1724-, been 
admitted a student of Lincoln's-inn ; ajid in 1730, af- 
ter taking the degree of m.aster of arts, he left the uni- 
versity. He determined to' visit foreign countries before 
commencing the serious prosecution of his legal studies; 
and accordingly travelled through France and Italy, at 
an age rather more mature than is usually chosen for 
such a purpose, but much the best fitted for improve- 
ment and useful observation. In this journey, at Rome 
he was probably inspired and animated v^ith the love of 
Ciceronian eloquciice, and prompted to miake its great 
author his example ; and in his perambulations over 
classic ground, he perhaps became emulous, to lay the 
foundation of that noble superstructure which he soon 
after raised. On his. return, he wrote to the du^:e of 
Portland, who also was then on the point of setting out 
on his travels, two letters on the study of ancient 'dnd 
modern history ; which contain excellent directions on 



434 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

that subject, and display a wonderful stock of reading 
and j.adgment fcr so. young a man. 

Mr. Murray was called to the bar in the year 1730 ; 
and in his pursuit of legal knowledge, his assiduity co- 
operated with his great abilities. These qualities,, 
together with the prudence of his conduct, not only 
exempted him from all pecuniary embarrassments 
(which slender fortune in some, and juvenile indiscre- 
tion in others, too frequently produce), but procured 
him the esteem, the friendship, and the patronage, of 
the great oracles of the law who adorned that period ;. 
among whom was Mr. Yorke, afterwards lord- chancel- 
lor Hardwicke, whose life has been already related in 
this volume. Early in his professional career, he stu* 
died the graces of elocution under his friend Pope, who' 
in this respect may be considered as one of the first 
masters of the time in wliich he lived : for Dr. John- 
son observes, in his life of that great poet, that ** when 
he was young, his voice was so pleasing that he was 
called the young nightingale;" and Pope, in an ad- 
utanced age, certainly paid at least an equal compliment 
to Mr. Murray in giving him the epithet of *' silver- 
tongucd." One day a gentleman surprised him at his 
chambers in the act of practising the graces of speaking 
at a glass, while Pope sat by as his preceptor. Nor 
did the poet confine his benefits to private instructions 
t)f this nature, but in various parts of his works was 
CHUially attentive to proclaim in enchanting language 
the merit of his young friend. In one passage he tells 
him, 

*' at council-board rejoice 
To see their judgments hang upon thy voice f 

and describes him as 

** one whom nature, learning, birth, conspir'd 
To fol-m not to admire, but be admir*d.'* 

Mr. Murray became early engaged In sereral xmpor- 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. 435 

tant causes ; in which his genius shone conspicuously, 
even through the disadvantages of being a junior coun- 
sel. He was in consequence frequently retained with- 
out any superior, and in a short time appeared in this, 
character in several appeals at the bar of the house of 
lords ; where as he had a more dignified audience, and 
of course additional incitements td exertion, his fame 
rose fully in proportion, and his success was equaL 
His friend Pope alludes to this circumstance on one oc- 
casion when, while giving him a solemn admonition^ 
he at the same time pays him a most elegant compli- 
ment in comparing him to Cicero and the great lord 
Clarendon ; 

** Graced as thou art with all the power of words ; 
So known, sohonour'd, atthe house of lords> 
Conspicuous scene h another yet is nigh. 
More awful far, where kings and poets lie; 
V/here Murray, long enough Iiis- country's pride. 
Shall be no more than Tully or than Hyde." 

The natural and acquired advantages which charac- 
terised his eloquence were such, and liis pei*ception was 
so quick, as to enable him to excel even upon the most 
unexpected emergency. A circumstance of this kind 
occurred during the year ] 7^7, in a considerable cause 
in which he was the junior counsel for the defendant. 
The leading counsel being suddenly seized with a fit in 
the court, the duty of addressing the jury devolved on 
Mr. Murray j who at first modestly declined it, from 
not having studied the case for this purpose. The court, 
to indulge him, postponed the cause for about an hour; 
and with orJy this preparation he made so able a de- 
fence, as to reduce tlie damages against his client to a 
mere trifle, and to gain for himself the reputation of 
being a most prompt and perspicuous as well as power- 
ful pleader. In the same ye.ir, a riot happening at 
Edinburgh which made it necessary to call out a mili- 
tary force for the restoration of tranquillity, captain 



436 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

Porteoiis, the commanding officer, thought himself 
obliged to order the soldiers to fire upon the mob, by 
which means some persons were killed. This affair 
mzde a great noise at the time : and the captain under- 
went a trial in due course of law on a charge of mur- 
der, of which the jury found him guilty ; but he was 
reprieved. The populace however, being extremely 
exasperated against him, broke open the prison, drag- 
ged him out, and hanged him in the street. In conse- 
quence of these proceedings, a bill w^as brought into 
parliament for punishing the mayor of Edinburgh, and 
imposing a fine on the corporation, who were supposed 
to have been remiss in their duty on that occasion ; and 
Mr. Murray was employed as counsel for the offending 
parties, in both houses of the legislature. His exer- 
tions in this cause, though unsuccessful, were so much 
to the satisfaction of his clients, that he was presented 
with the freedom of the city of Edinburgh in a gold 
box as an acknowledgment of his services. 

. In the year 1738 Mr. Murray married a daughter of 
the earl of Winchelsea ; and this union, besides the 
more solid enjoyment of domestic comfort, brought 
him also the advantages of fortune and splendid family- 
connections. His business too was rapidly increasing, 
particularly in appeal causes at the bar of the house of 
lords. His extensive fame nov/ recommended him to 
the notice of the persons in power ; and accordingly, in 
174*2 he was appointed solicitor-general, and on this 
occasion procured a seat in the house of com.mons. In 
that great assembly, it frequently fell to his lot to be 
the parlicular antagonist of Mr. Pitt, afterwards earl 
of Chatham; who was then rising into public notice as 
the opposer , of sir Robert Walpole's administration, 
which Mr. Murray's confidential post under goverament 
seemed now in some measure to m.ake it his duty to de- 
fend. They vv'-ere indeed opponents through the whole 
of their political lives, jet this did not destroy the re- 

7 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. 437 

spect which Mr. Pitt could not help entertaining for 
liis extraordinary talents ; and many years afterwards, 
when by the favour of their sovereign they had been 
ennobled, and both held seats in the house of peers, 
lord Chatham on a particular occasion expressed himself 
as follows respecting him : *' My lords, I must beg the 
indulgence of the house : neither will my health per- 
mit me, nor do I pretend to be qualified, to follow the 
noble lord through the whole of his argument. No 
man is better acquainted with his abilities and learning, 
nor has a greater respect for them than I have. I have 
had the pleasure of sitting with him iQ the ©ther house, 
and always listened to him with attention. I have not 
now lost a word of what he said, nor did I ever." 

About this time a Mr. Vernon, father of a young 
gentleman with whom Mr. Murray had been particu- 
larly intimate at school and at college, having previ- 
ously lost his son, died, and left a considerable estate 
to Mr. Murray as the adopted substitute of his favourite 
child. — Mr. Murray's powers were now displayed in all 
the vicissitudes of argument and debate. The court 
of chancery claimed from him some hours of practice 
in the morning ; the council-chamber, or the bar of the 
house of lords, demanded higher exertions in the after- 
noon ; and in the evening, in the house of commons, 
he entered the lists against the greatest of all rivals, Mr. 
Pitt. 

In 1746 occurred the memorable impeachments of the 
Scotch lords who had excited or conducted the rebellion 
m the preceding year: and in the course of these, the 
eloquence cf Mr, Murray as solicitor-general excited 
the admiration of all his hearers ; and even drew en 
him several distinguished compiinjents from the un- 
happy noblemen whom his duty led him to accuse, as 
well as from the lord-chancellor and the attorney-i-ene- 
ral. About thii period too he proved the principal 
means of introducing to public notice Dr, Blackstone 



438 EARL OF MANSFIELD, 

who was then a barrister witli little practice ; and of per- 
suading him to compose tlie lectures which he afterwards 
extended and improved into his celebrated Commenta- 
ries on the Laws of England, a work of inestimable 
value. 

The accumulation of honours, and the increase of 

fame, whicli now attended Mr. Murray, and two or 

three of his juvenile companions with whom he had 

,- formed an early friendship, excited much jealousy ; sa 

true is the observation of the poet, that 

^ Envy will follow merit like its shad^ :**' 

and a frivolous charge was brought against them by some 
persons, of having formerly often drunk the Pretender^s- 
health. In consequence of this, th^ propriety of re*- * 
moving him from his office of solicitor-general began, 
to be actually talked of, and the privy-council aq- 
tually made some examination into the matter.. 
However, the accusation came to nothing ; and kii'»g; 
George the Second viewed this idle affair in Its true 
light. " Whatever they were when tliey were Westmin- 
steF-boys," said his majesty with great good-sense, '< they 
are now my very good friends." 

In 1754 Ml'. Murray succeededto the office of attor- 
ney-general ;-. and tv^o years afterwards to the high dig- 
nity of lord-chief-justice -of the court of king's-bench,- 
and at die same time was^ advanced to a peerage by 
the title of baron Mansfield. In this new character, 
when thus called to preside in the first law court of the 
kingdom, hJs sound judgment and clear eomprehension< 
were very soon displayed in a cause wliich had at first 
appeared unimportant : and these irresistibly made a. 
most favourable impression on the bar and the audience-^ 
and drew a sincere and handsome acknowledgment 
from a distinguished judge th&i sitting on the same- 
bench. 

Lord Mansfield made it one of his chief aims to strip 
8 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. 459 

tvery cause from the burdensome superfluities in which 
the counsel had invested It, and to reduce its merits 
-ivitliin a compass which a plain understanding might 
embrace. He professed it his constant desire to do jus- 
tice between man and man : this, he said, was the great 
end of all laws ; and this he would, on every occasion, 
endeavour really to obtain. In questions, particular- 
ly, arising from the disputed sense of an obscure will, 
he always tried by every means to discover what was 
the intention of the testator ; and this he adhered to, 
against the most ingenious and plausible arguments in 
favour of a contrary interpretation of the contested 
passage. As an instance of this, in die summer of the 
year 1760 a laborious advocate h iving employed con- 
siderable time in producing several cases from ancient 
law-books, to give a particular meaning to some part 
of an old woman's will, lord Mansfield, after heariiij 
him with much patience, at last interrupted him by ask- 
ing whether he thought the old woman had ever heard 
cf these cases ; and if not, what plain justice must say 
in the matter. He immediately gave judgment on the 
principles of common sense, to the satisfaction of the 
whole court. 

Though now elevated to such a height in his profes- 
sional career, lord Mansfield did not disdain a singular 
opportunity of evincing the universality of his talents 
and knowledge 5 but towards the end of the year 1759 
actually composed a thanksgiving-sermon for his friend 
the bishop of Worcester, who had been ordered to 
preach on that occasion before the house of lords, though 
he had but just taken his seat among them, and thus 
had not adequate time for preparing the discourse him- 
self. 

In all situations indeed, and on all occasions, his 
precepts and his practice inculcated and enforced every 
branch of moral rectitude. In trying a cause once on 
an action for debt, the defendant lost his temper in re* 



440 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

Liting to his lordship with much warmth the great in- 
dignity put upon him as a merchant of London by the 
plaintiff, in causing him to be arrested not only in open 
day, but on the Royal Exchange. Lord Mansfield 
ho\yever, with great composure, stopped him ; saying : 
"Friend, you forget yourself ; jv^'z/ were the great of-" 
fender, in refusing to pay the debt ; and let me give 
you a piece of advice, worth more than the debt itself. 
Be careful in future not to put it into any man's power 
to arrest you for a just debt, either in public or pri- 
vate/' 

Lord ilansiield had deeply imbibed the well-founded 
opinion, that nothing contributes so much to prevent 
crimes, as the certainty of punishment jf detected 5 and 
particularly in die case of forgery, so dangerous in a 
commercial country like this. Hence it was in conse- 
quence of his advice that Robert Perreau who was found 
guilty of that crime, though recommended to the royal 
favour by a whole previous life of ^unspotted integrity 
and by the active friendship of many noble families, and 
even though proved to have been deluded and deceived 
by a brother and a most artful woman, paid his life as a 
forfeit to the violated laws, and to the rigorous policy 
required by an extensive system of m.ercantile credit. 
And a few years afterwards, when Dr. Dodd fell into 
the same error, a single observation of the lord-chief- " 
justice is said to have determined his fate, in opposition 
lo the strongest solicitations that ever were made for 
mercy towards a condemned criminal. " If you gar- 
don Dodd, you have murdered Perreau," said this im- 
partial judge. ~ - 

In the 'year 1768 Mr. Wilkes, who by leaving the 
country to escape a legal sentence had subjected himself 
to an oiltlawry, returned, and applied to the comt of 
king's-be^ch to have it reversed. As this gentleman 
was then a great favourite with the populace, who were 
clamorous and indeed outrageous in his behalf, it was 



EARL OF MANSFIELD* 44l 

.supposed that to decide against him on this point would 
produce dangerous consequences ; and the political 
principles of lord Mansfield being known to be diame- 
trically opposite to those of Mn Wilkes-, the public cu- 
riosity and anxiety were highly excited concerning the 
expected decision of his lordship. His speech on this 
occasion, which was very long, was perhaps the most 
eloquent tliat he ever pronounced. After a masterly 
elucidation of the grounds assigned for the reversal of 
nhe outlawr}^, but all of which he disallowed, his lord- 
•ship with great dignity alluded to his own personal 
situation with regard to this question. " I pass over 
many anonymous letters which I have received,*' said 
he. " Whoever the writers are, they take the wrong 
way. I will do my duty unawed. What am I to fear ? 
that * lying infamy,' from the press, which daily coins 
false facts and false motives ? The lies of calumny 
carry no terror to me ; I trust that my temper of mind, 
and the colour and conduct cf my life, have given me 
a suit of armour against these arrov/s, — I wish for popu- 
larity : but it is tliat popularity which follows, not that 
which is run after ; it is that popularity which, sooner or 
later, never fails to do justice to the pursuit of noble 
ends by noble means : I will not do chat vvhich my con- 
science tells me is WTong upon this occasion, to gain 
the huzzas of thousands, or the daily praises of all the 
papers which issue from the press. I will not avoid 
doing what I think is right, though it should draw on 
me the whole artillery of libels ; ail that falsehood and 
malice can invent, or the credulity of a deluded popu- 
lace can swallow. 

*' The threats go farther than abuse 5 personal vio- 
lence is denounced. I do not believe it: it is not the 
genius of the worst of men in this country, in the worst 
of times. But I have set my mind at rest. The last 
^ end that Can happeji to any man never comes too soon, 
if he falls in support of the law and liberty of his coun* 



442 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

try ; for liberty is synonymous with law and government. 
Such a shock too might be productive of public good : 
it might awake the better part of the kingdoni out of \ 
that lethargy which seems to have benumbed them ;' 
and bring the mad part back to their senses, as men 
intoxicated are sometimes stunned into sobriety." — In 
conclusion, his lordship pointed out a material error in 
the legal process which had not been noticed by Mr. 
Wilkes's counsel, and the outlawry was consequently 
reversed. 

In the great political controversy which occurred in 
the years 1769 and 1770, when the house of commons, 
after expelling Mr. Wilkes (who was one of its mem- 
bers) for a libel, refused to admit him again, though 
he was immediately re-elected by the freeholders of 
Middlesex his former constituents, lord Mansfield from 
motives of prudence avoided giving a positive opinfoi* 
concerning any part of tlie proceedings ; but strenu- 
ously opposed all attempts for inducing the house of 
lords to interfere in what the commons might justly 
deem a question relating to their own peculiar privileges. 
In the early state of the unhappy dispute with our Ame- 
rican colonies respecting the right of taxation in the 
British parliament; which afterwards ended in the Ame- 
rican war, and the total separation of that country from 
any political dependance upon Great Britain ; lord Mans- 
field supported the existence of the absolute right, on 
arguments drawn from profound legal and political re- 
searches : and recommended a firm but prudent asser- 
tion and exercise of it. In this train of argument, how- 
ever he might be supported by law and precedent, 
reason and justice declared against him. 

In 1770 the celebrated letters of Junius, which were 
then published at intervals in oneof the daily newspapers, 
attracted a great degree of public attention ; and go- 
vernment thought proper to order that anonymous wri- 
ter's address to the king to be prosecuted. At that pe- 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. 443 

nod the law relative to libels was by no means so ac- 
curately fixed or agreed upon as it is at present : and 
lord Mansfield, according to what he considered to be 
the true state of the law on this subject as it then existed, 
uniformly told the different juries in these causes, that 
if they were satisfied that the fact of publishing was 
proved against the defendants, and the publication itself 
bore the sense ascribed to it in the indictment or infor- 
mation, they were bound to pronounce a verdict of 
Guilty ; and that the criminal intention of the defend- 
ants, and the libellous purport of the writing, were 
questions wholly for the consideration of the court. 
This doctrine drew on his lordship much opposition, 
and many attacks, from the popular writers of that 
time, and gave rise to a long contest which happily 
terminated in the libel-act passed in the year 1790; 
which has ^xed the liberty of the press on the firmest 
foundation, by giving the jury authority in cases of 
libel to pronounce their verdict from a consideration of 
all the circumstances of the case. I^et it be remem- 
bered that the British nation is chiefly indebted for this 
act to the patriotic exertions of Mr. Fox. 

In the year 1771> on a vacancy of the office of lord- 
chancellor, his majesty was pleased to offer the great 
seal to lord Mansfield, who however declined accepting 
it. In 1776 his nephew, lord Stormont, married; and 
on this event lord Mansfield, seeing himself at an ad- 
vanced age without children, obtained for himself the 
dignity of an earldom, to descend to the heirs male of 
that nobleman. 

An act of parliament passing in 17tS0, which had for 
its object to extend the principle of toleration, excited 
in tTie minds of some ignorant persons an idea that it 
would afford dangerous privileges and encouragement 
to the Roman-catholics ; and this notion produced in^ 
London the most digraceful riot that ever agitated a 
civilized country. Avast mob assembled in St. Gcorgc'.s 



444 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

Fields : which, after proceeding in a tumultuous man- 
ner^to the parliament-house with a- petition against the 
obnoxious bill, dispersed in different panics about the 
metropolis; and for three days not only committed hor- 
rid and unexampled devastations against the chapels, 
and the houses of the principal professors, of the Ro- 
mish religion, but even destroyed several of the jails, 
and thus liberated the prisoners, and directed their sa- 
vage and brutal violence against the residences of the 
great supporters of law and government. Lord Mans- 
field was in this respect too conspicuous a character not 
to attract their notice. His house, with all its contents, 
was reduced to a heap of ashes ; his lordship himself 
escaping only with his life : and the destruction of his 
inestimable collection of books and manuscripts on this 
occasion, must for ever be deplored as an irreparable 
loss to society. With a true magnanimity, however, 
and a consciousness that the infinitely greatest part of 
his loss was of such a nature as money could not sup- 
ply, his lordship declined to accept any pecuniary com- 
pensation from the national jusl'rce ; and behaved with 
such dignified riioderation, that his greatest enemies 
were ashamed of their violence. 

After holding his high office for thirty -two years, 
perhaps with greater reputation and splendour to him- 
self and advantage to his country than any of his pre- 
decessors, lord Mansfield found in his age and bodily 
infirmities powerful inducements to resign ; which he 
accordingly did in the summer of 1788. On this event, 
he received a very affectionate and pathetic address from 
the bar, signed by the counsel who. had practised in the 
court of klng's-bench during some part of the period 
in which he presided there; regretting with a just sen- 
sibility the loss of a m^agistrate whose conspicuous and 
exalted talents conferred dignity upon the profession of 
the law,, whose enlightened and regular admkiistration 
of justice made its duties less difficult and laborious^ 



EARL OF MANSFIELD. 445 

and whose manners rendered them pleasant and respect- 
able. 

His lordship^s advanced and very industrious life left 
him now the prospect of but few years of that tranquil 
retirement which his merits, and his services to his coun- 
try, made it the universal wish that he should be 
long able to enjoy. After thus spending little more 
than four years (duringr the whole of which term, amidst 
the decay of his corporeal vigour, that of his mind hap- 
pily remained unabated to his last hour), he died on the 
20th of March 1793, at the great age of eighty-eight ; 
and a few days afterwards was buried in Westminster- 
abbey. 

Like all other truly great men, lord Mansfield was 
equally so in his moral" and his professional character. 
He was a sincere Christian without either bigotry or 
hypocrisy. He frequently received the sacrament, both 
before and after he was ultimately confined to his house 
by infirmity ; and there was constantly that decorum, 
that exemplary regularity, to be seen in every depart- 
. ment of his household, which would have done credit to 
the palace of an archbishop. 

Consideringhis lordship's judicial decisions separately, 
it will appear that on all occasions he was perfectly mas- 
ter of the case before him ; and apprised of every princi- 
ple of law, and every former adjudication, immedi- 
ately or remotely applicable to its elucidation. Consi- 
' dering them collectively, they form a complete code 
of jurisprudence on some of the most important 
branches of our law ; a system founded on principles 
equally liberal and just, admirably suited to the genius 
and circumstances of the age, and happily blending the 
venerable doctrines of the old law with the learnino- 
and refinement of modern tim^es : the work of a mind 
nobly gifted by nature, and informed with vevery kind 
of learning which could. serve for use and ornament. 

His great wisdom shed an unconimon lustre over his 



446 EARL OF MANSFIELD. 

admonitions, his advice, and his decisions in the pubh'c 
courts ; and gave them their due weight. All he said 
and did, will be held in deserved admiration as long as 
the love of our excellent laws, as long as the fascinations 
of eloquence, shall be deemed worthy of pre-eminence, 
or possess any charms to please. 

In his younger years lord Mansfield was emi- 
Dently handsome ; and even to the last of his sit- 
ting on the bench, his piercing eye, his graceful man- 
ner, and his sweetly modulated tone of voice, gave an 
impression which nothing could efface. To see him 
and to hear him, was to love and respect hijn. Even 
those who suffered from his decisions, were ready to 
acknowledge the talents and urbanity of the man. If 
he punislv d crime, he never increased the sufferings 
©f the offender by illiberal abuse and misapplied invec- 
tive. In short, he was a model of what a judge ought 
t© be ; firm but mild, and an ornament to human na- 
ture itself. 



APPENDIX* 



APPENDIX; 



CONTAINING 

A BRIEF CHRONOLOGICAL VIEW 

OF 

ENGLISH HISTOR Y. 



EGBERT, seventeenth king- of the West Saxons, 
began his reign in 799. He conquered Kent, and 
laid the foundation of the sole monarchy of England m 
82S, which put an end to the vSaxon Heptarchy, and 
was solemnly crowned at Winchester, when, by his 
edict, in 827, he ordered all the south of the island to 
be called England. He died Feb. 4, 837, and was bu- 
ried at Winchester. 

ETHELWOLF, eldest son of Egbert, succeeded 
his father, notwithstanding, at the time of Egbert's 
death, he was bishop of Winchester. In 846 he ordain- 
ed tithes to be collected, and exem]:)ted the clergy from 
regal tributes. He visited Rome in 847? confirmed the 
grant of Peterpence, and agreed to pay Rome S(X) 
marks per annum. His son Ethelbald obliged him to 
divide the sovereignty with him, 856. He died Jan* 
1 3, 857> and was buried at Winchester. '' 

ETHELBALD II. eldest son of Ethelwolf, sue 
ceeded in 857. He died Dec. 20, 860, and was buried 
at Sherborne, but renioved to Salisbury. 

ETHELBERT II. second son of Ethelwolf, sue- 
ceeded in 860, and was greatly harassed by the Danes, 
who were repulsed and vanquished. He died in ^66^ 
was buried at Sherborne, and was succeeded by 

ETHELRED I. third son of Ethelwolf, who beganhis 
reign in 866, when the Danes again harassed his kingdom. 
In 870, they destroyed the monasteries of Bradney, 
Crowland, Peterborough, Ely, and Huntingdon, when 
the nuns of Coldingham defaced themsefves to avoid 
pollution ; and in East Anglia they murdered Edmund, 
at Edmundsbury, in Suffolk. Etlielred overthrew the 



448 APPENDIX* 

Danes, 871, at Assendon. He fought nine battles with 
.the Danes in one year, was wounded at Wittlngham, 
. which occasioned his death, April 27, 872, and was bu- 
ried at Winborne, in Dorsetshire. 

ALFRED, the fourth son of Ethelwolf, succeeded 
in 872, in the 22d year of his age ; was crowned at 
Winchester, and is distinguished by the title of Alfred 
the Great. * He was born at Wantage, in Berkshire, 
.849, and obliged to take the field against the Danes 
witliin one month after his coronation, at Wilton, in 
'Oxfordshire. He fought seven battles with them in 
876. In 877 another succour of Danes arrived, and 
Alfred was obliged to disguise himself in the liabit of a 
shepherd, in the isle of Aldersey, in Somersetshire : 
till, in 878, collecting his scattered friends , he attacked 
and defeated them, in 879, when he obliged the great- 
est part of their army to quit the island : in 897 they 
went up the river Lea, and built a fortress at Wear, 
where king Alfred turned off the course of the river, 
and left their ships dry; which obliged the Danes to re- 
move. He died Oct. 28, 899. He formed a body of 
laws, afterwards made use of by Edward the Confes- 
sor, which was the groundwork of the present. He 
.divided his kingdoms into shires, hundreds, and tithings; 
and obliged his nobles to bring up their children in 
learning ; and, to induce them thereto, admitted none 
into office unless they were learned ; and, to enable 
them to procure that learning, he is said to have found- 
ed the university of Oxford. He was buried at Win- 
.chester. 

EDWARD the Elder, his son, succeeded him, and 
was crowned at Kingston upon Thames, in 899. In 
911, Llewellyn, prince of Wales, did homage to Ed- 
\vard for his principahty. He died at Farringdon, in 
Berkshire, in 924, and Was buried at Winchester. . 

ATHELSTAN, his eldest son, succeeded him, and 
-was crovvnea, with far greater magnificence than usual, 
.at Kingston upon Thames, in 929. In 937 he defeat- 
ed two Welsh princes ; bat sDon..after, on their making 
submission, he restored their estates to them. He es- 
4Daped being assassinatecf in his tent, 938, which he re- 
venged by attacking his enemy ; /when five petty sove- 
xeigns- twelve dukes, and an army who came to the 



APPENDIX. 



449 



assistance of Analf, king of Ircl aid, were slain m a battle 
fouo-lit near Dunbar, in Scodand. He made the 
princes of Wales trlbuLarv, i>j9 ; and died Oct. 17, 940, 
at Olo^Tcesttr. 

E1)MUND 1. the fifth son of Edward the Elder, 
sv.ccecded at the age of 18 ; and was crowned king, at 
Kingston upon Thames, In Q^O. On May 26, 947, in 
endeavouring to separate two persons VN^ho were quar- 
relling, he received a w^onnd, of which he bled to death, 
and was buried at Glastonbury. 

EDKED, his brother, aged 23, succeeded ni 947, 
and was crowned at Kingston upon Thames, tlie 17th 
of August. He died in 955, and was buried at Winches- 
ter. 

EDV7Y, the eldest son of Edmund, succeeded, and 
was crowned at Kingston upon Thames, in 9.^5. He 
had great dissensions with the clergy, ^and banished 
Punstan, their ringleader ; which occasions little cre- 
dit to be given to his character as drawn by the 
priests. He died of grief in 959, . after a turbulent 
reign of four years, and was buried at Winchester. 

EDGAR, at the age of sixteen, succeeded his bro- 
ther, and was crowned at Kingston upon Thames, in 
959, and again at Bath, in 972. He imposed on tl^e 
princes of Wales a tribute of w^olves' heads, tlrat, for 
three years, amiounted to 300 each year. He obliged 
eight tributary princes to row him in a barge on -the 
river Dee, in 974. He died July 1, 975, and was bu- 
ried at Glastonbury. 

, EDWAR.D the Martyr, his eldest son, succeeded 
bim, being but 16 years of age ; w^as crowned by Dun- 
Stan, at Kingston upon Thames, in 973. He was stab- 
bed, by the instructions of his motlier-in-law^ as he was 
drinking, at Corfe-castle, in the isle of Purbeck, in 
Dorsetshire, on March 18, 979. He was first buried at 
Wareham, w^ithout any ceremony, but removed three 
years after, in great pomp, to Shaftesburv. 

ETHELRED II. succeeded his halflbrother, and 
was crowned at Kingston upon Thames on April 1'^, 
979. In 982 his palace, v/ith great part of London, 
was destroyed by a great fire. England was ravaged 
by the Danes, who, 999, received at one payment 
about sixteen thousand pounds raised bv a land-tax 
u 2 



450 APPENDIX. 

called Dancgek. A general massacre of tlie Danes oa 
Nov. 13, 1002. Swain revenged his cmintrymen's 
deaths 1003, and did not quit the kingdom till Ethel- 
red had paid liim thirty-six thousand pounds, which he 
the year following demanded as an annual tribute. In 
the spring of 1003 they subdued great part of the king- 
dom. To stop their progress, it was agreed in 1012 
to pay the Danes forty-eight thousand pounds to quit 
tlie kingdom. In the space of 20 years they received 
four hundred and sixty-nine thousand six hundred and 
eighty-seven poimds sterling. Soon after, Swain en- 
tered the H umber again ; when Ethelred retired to tlie 
isle of Wight, and sent his sons, with their mother 
Emma, into Normandy, to her brother ; and Swain 
took possession of the whole kingdom iu 1013. 

SWAIN was proclaimed king of England in 1013, 
and no person disputed his title. His first act of sove- 
reignty was an insupportable tax, which he did not 
live to see collected. He died Feb. 3, 1014, at Thet- 
ford in Norfolk. 

CANUTE, his son, was proclaimed March 1014, 
and endeavouring to gain the affections of his English 
. subjects, but without success, retired to Denmark. 

ETHELRED returned, at the invitation of his sub- 
jects. Canute returned 1015, soon after he had left . 
England, and landed at Sandwich. Ethelred retired 
to the north ; but by avoiding a battle \<nth the Danes 
he lost the affections of his subjects, and, retiring to Lon- 
don, expired in KM 6. 

EDMUND surnamed IRONSIDE, his son, was 
crbwned at Kingston upon Thames, April 1016 ; but 
from a disagreement among ihe nobility, Canute was 
likewise crowned at Southampton. In June following, 
Canute totally routed Edmund, at Assendon in Essex, 
v\ ho soon after met Canute in the isle of Alderney, in 
the Severn, v/here a peace was concluded, and the king- 
dom divided between them. Edmund did not survive 
above a month after, being murdered at Oxford, 
before he had reigned a year^ He left two sons and two 
daughters ; from one of the daughters James I. of Eng- 
land was descended, and from htm George III. 

CANUTE was established 1017: he made an alli- 
ance with Normandv, and married Emma, Ethelred's 



APPENDIX. 1^.51 

v,'-Jow, 1018: made a voyage to Denmark, attacked 
Korl^Mv* and took possession of the crown, lO^iH; 
died at' Shaftesbury, I0o6', and was buried at Winches- 
ter. 

HAROLD I. his son, began his reign 10:>G ; died 
April M-, 1039, and was succl^eded by his younger bro- 
ther, 

ITAF.DICANUTE, king of Denmark, who died at 
Lambeth 1011 ; was biiiied at New Winchester, and 
succeeded by a son ot (jiieen Emma^ by her first hus- 
band, Ethelred XL 

EDWARD the Confessor was born at Tslip, Oxford- 
shire, and began his reign in the lOth year of his age. 
He was crowned at Winchester 101^ ; married Edithc^ 
daughter of Godwin earl of Kent, 101-3 ; rernitted the 
tax of Danegelt, and was the first king of Enghmd 
that touched for the king's-evil, 1058; died Jan. 5, 
1066, a^ed 65 ; was buried in Westminster-abbey, 
which he rebuilt, where his bones were enshrined in gold, 
and set with jewels,; in 1206. , Emma, his mother^ died 
1052. He was succeeded by 

HAROLD IL son of the earl of Kent, who began his. 
reign 1036 ; was defeated by his brother Tosti, and the 
king of Norway, who had invnd'-^i his dominions, at 
Stamford, Sept. 25, 1066; kiU'jrl 07 the Normans, un- 
der William, at Hastings, Oct. i I fcliowinr. 

WILLL'IM L duke of Norrnar-idy, a descendant of 
Canute, bom 1027 ; paid a visit to Edward the Con- 
fessor, in England, 1051 ; betrothed his daughter to 
Harold IL 1058 ; made a claim of tlie crown of Eng- 
land 1066 ; invaded England, landed at Pevensey in 
Sassejc, the same year; defeated, the English troops at 
Hastings on Oct. LI, 1066, when Harold was slain, 
and William assumed the title of Conqueror. He was 
crow*ned at Westminster, Dec. 29, 1066 ; invaded vScot- 
land 107^; subverted the English constitution 1074=; 
refused to swear fealty to the Pope for the crown of 
England ; was wounded by l^is son Robert, at Gevberot 
In Normandy, 1079; invaded Erance 1086 ; soon after 
fell from his horse, and contracted a rupture ; died at 
Hermentrude, near R(men in Normandy, 1087; was bu- 
ried at Caen ; succeeded In Normandy by his eldest soil 
Robert, and in Engla^id by his second son, 



452 APPENDIX. 

WILLIAM II. born 1057 ; cro\\Tied at Westminster 
Sepf. 27, 1087 ; invaded Normandy with success 1Q90 ; 
killed by accident as he was hunting in the New Forest, 
by sir Walter Tynel, Aug. I lGO,*"aged 45 ; buried at 
Winchester, an'd succeeded by his brother, 

HBNRY I. born 1068^ crowned August 5, 1100; 
married Matilda, daughter of Malcolm king of Scots, 
Nov. 1 1 following ; made peace with his brother Rol:)ert 
liOl ; invaded Normandy 1105; attacked by Robert, 
whom he defeated, took prisoner, and sent to England, 
in 1107; betrothed his daughter Maude to the emperor 
©f Germany 1109; challenged by Lewis of France 
i 1 17 ; his eldest son and two ^ y^rs of his children ship- 
wrecked and lost, with 180 d^ 4iis nobility, in coming 
from Normandy, 1120; in quiet possession of Nor- 
mandy, 1129; surfeited himiself with eating lampreys, 
at Lyons, near Rouen in Normandy, and died Dec. 1, 
1135, aged 68 ; his body was brought over to England, 
and buried at Reading. He was succeeded by his ne- 
phev7 Stephen, third son of his sister Adela by the earl 
i)f Blois. He left one hundred thousand pounds in. 
cash, besides ulate and jewels to an immeufe valu.?. 

STEPHEN, born 1105; crpwned Dec. % 1135; 
taken prisoner at Lincoln by the earl of Glouce&ter, 
Maude's half-brotlier, Feb- li4d, and put in irons, at 
Bri^stol, but reieased in exchange for the earl of Glou- 
cester, taken at Winchester ; made peace with Henry, 
?vlaude's son, 1153; died of the piles, Oct. 25, 1154', 
Vx^Q(i 50 ; was buried at Fevershani, and succeeded by 
Jienry, son of Maude. 

HENRY n. grandson of Henry L born 1133, began 
his reign in 1154; arrived in England, Dec. 8, and 
was, v.ath his queen Eleanor, croWned at London, the 
19th of the same month ; crowned at Lincoln, 1158 ; 
again at Worcester, 1159: quelled the rebellion in 
Maine, 1 166 ; had his son Henry crowned king of Eng- 
land 1170 ; invaded Ireland, and took possession of it, 
1172 ; imprisoned his queen on account of Rosamond, 
his concubine, 1173; did penaace at Becket's tomb, 
July 8, 1174'; took the king of Scotland prisoner, and 
obliged him to give up the independency of his crown, 
1175; nametl his son, John, Lord of Ireland, 1176; 
hiidf the same year, an amour with Alice, of France, 



APPENDIX. 4^S^< 

the Intended princess of his son Richard, IKS 1 ; lost his 
eldest son Henry, June 11, 1183 ; his son Richard re- 
belled, 1185; his son JeiTery trodden underfoot, and 
killed, at a tournament at Paris, 1186 ; made a conven- 
tion with Philip of France to go to the holy war, 1188 ;. 
died with grief at the altar, cursing his sons, July 6, 
1 189„ aged 56 ; was buried atFonteverard, in France,- 
and succeeded bvhis son Richard. 

RICHARD Ifeiis born at Oxford, 1157, crowned' 
at London,. Sept]^^ 1189; set out on the crusade, and-^ 
joined Philip of France, on the plains of V^ezelay, June 
29, 1190; took Messina the latter end of the year;, 
married Berengera, daughter of the king of Navarre,. 
May 12, 1191 ; defeated the Cyprians, 1191 ; taken 
prisoner near Vienna, on his i*etum home, by the duke 
of Austria, Dec. 20, 1192 ; ransomed for forty thou- 
sand poimds and set at liberty, 1193 ; returned to Eng- 
land, March 20, following ; wounded with an arrow, 
at Chaluz, near Limoges, in Normandy, and died 
April 6y 1199; buried at Fonteverard, and v/as suc-- 
ceeded by his brother 

JOHN, the younr^est son of Ilenrv II. bom at Ox- 
ford, Dec* 24, l^ieS; was-orowried May27, 1199; di. 
vorced his wife Avisa, and. married Isabelia, daughter' 
of the count of Angolesme ; went to Paris, 1200 ; 
besieged the castle of Mirabie, and took his nephew 
Arthur prisoner, Aug. I, 1202, whom he murdered; 
the same year he was expelled the French provinces, 
and recrowned in England ; imprisoned his queen, 1208 ; 
banished all the clergy in his dominions, 1 203 ; was ex- 
communicated, 1209; landed in Ireland, June 8, 1210; 
surrendered his crown to Pandolf, the Pope's legate, 
May 25, 1213; absolved, July 20, following ; obliged 
by his barons to confirm Magna Charta, 1215 ; lost his 
treasure and baggage in passing the marshes of Lynn, 
1216; died at Newark, Oct. 18, 1216; was buried at 
Worcester, and succeeded by his son 

HENRY III. born Oct. 1, 1207; cro^\Tled at Gloa- 
cester, Oct. 28, 1216; received homage from Alexan- 
der of Scotland, at Northampton, 1218 ; crowned 
again at Westminster, after Christmas, 1219 ; married 
Eleanor, daughter of the count of Provence, Jan. 14*, 
1236 ; pledged his crown and jewels for money, when 



454 APPENDIX, 

be married III? dfiuii^liter Margaret to the king (^f Scots, 
.] 242 ; obliged by his nobles to resign the power of a 
sovereign, and sell Normandy and Anjou to the French, 
1258 ; shut himself up in the Tower of London, for 
fear of his nobles, 12G1 ; taken prisoner at I^ewes, Mav 
14, ]2(>4 ; wounded at the battle of Evesham, 126.5 ; 
died of old age at St. Edmundsbury, Nov. 16, 1272 ; 
and was succeeded bv his son 

EDWARD I. born June 16, 1239; married Elea- 
nor, princess of Castile, 125v3 ; succeeded to the crown, 
Nov. 16, 1272 ; wounded in the Holy Land with a 
poisoned dagger ; recovered, and landed in England, 
July 25, 1274 ; crowned at Westminster, Aug. 19 fol- 
lowing, Vv'ith his queen ; went to France, and did ho- 
mage to the French king, 1279; reduced the Welsh 
princes, 1282 ; Eleanor, his queen, died of a fever on 
her journey to Scotland, at Horneby, in -Lincolnshire, 
1296, and was conveyed to Westminster, (when elegant 
stone crosses were erected at each place where the corpse 
rested) ; married Margaret, sister to the king of France, 
Sept. 12, 1299; conquered Scotland, 1299, and brought 
to England their coronation chair, &c. and died of a 
flax at Burgh upon th©- Sands in Cumberland, July 7> 
1307 ; was buried at Westminster, whete on May- 2, 
1774, some antiquarians, by consent of the Chapter, 
examined his tomb, when they found his corpse uncon- 
sumed^, though buried 466 years. He was succeeded 
by his fourth son 

EDWARD II. born at Caernarvon, in Wales, April 
25, 1284; was the first king of England's eldest son 
that had the title of Prince of Wales, with which he 
was invested in 1284. He ascended the throne, July 7j^ 

1307 ; married Isabella, daughter of the French king, 

1308 ; obliged by his barons to invest the government 
of the kingdom in twenty-one persons, March 16, 1 310 ^ 
went on a pilgrimage to Boulogne, December 13, 1313; 
declared his queen and all her adherents enemies to the 
kingdom, 1325; dethroned Jan. 13, 1327; succeeded 
by his eldest son, Edwc^rd III. murdered at Berkeley 
castle, Sept. 21, following, and buried at Glouces- 
ter. 

EDWARD III. born at Windsor, Nov. 15, 1312 j 
succeeded to the crown, Jan, 13, 1327 ; crowned at 



APPENDIX. 45 J 

Westminster, Feb. 1, following ; married Philippa, 
daughter of the earl of Hainault, Jan. ^2^, 132? ; claim- 
ed the crown of France, 13^29 ; confined his mother 
Isabella, and caused her favourite, earl Mortimer, 
to be hangf'd, Nov. 23, 1330; defeated the Scots at 
Halidown, 1339; invaded France, and pawned his 
crown and jewels for lift V thotisand florins, 13-10; quar- 
tered the am:is of England and France, 1341 ; made 
the first distinction between the Lords and Commons, 
1312 ; defeaied the French at Cressy, tliirty thousimd 
slain, amon'^' whom was the king of Bohemia, 131(>; 
his queen took the king of Scotland prisoner, and slew 
twenty thousand Scots the same year ; CaLiis besieged 
and taken, Aug. 16, 134-7 ; and St. Stephen's chapel, 
now the House of Commons, built 1347 ; the order of 
the Garter instituted 1349; the French defeated at Poic- 
tiers, their kiuQ; and prince taken; and the king of Na- 
varre imprisoned, 1356 ; the king of Scotland ransomed- 
for one hundred thousand pounds, 1357 ; in which year 
Edward lost his eldest son, Edward the black prince, 
t)t a consumption ; me king of France ransomed for 
tlti-ee hunured thousand pounds, 1359 ; four kings en- 
tertained at the Lord Mayor'is feast, viz. of En^^land, 
France, Scotland, and Cyprus, 1 364 ; Philippa his'cjueen 
died at Windsor Aug. 16,4369, and was buried at West- 
minster ; Edward uieu at Richmond, June 21, 1377; 
and vras succeeded by his grandson 

RICHARD II. born at Bourdeaux Jan. 6, 1367; 
had^ two royal godfatiiers, the kings of Navarre and 
I\'Lijorca ; made guardian of the kingdom Aug. 30, 
1372; created prince of Wales 1376, succeeded his 
grandfather, Edward III. June 21, 1377, when not 
seven years old ; the rebellion of W^at Tyler and Jack 
Straw, 1378 ; married Anne, sister to the emperor of 
Gennany, and king of Bohemia, Jan. 1382, vxho died 
w^ithout issue, at Shene, and was buried in W^estminster- 
abbey, Aug. 3, 139.5 ; married Isabella, daughter to the 
king of France, 1 39(i. He was taken prisoner' by Henry 
duke of Lancaster, his cousin, and sent to tlie Tower 
Sept. 1, 1399 ; resigned his crowo Sept. 29 following, 
and was succeeded by Henry IV. RIcliard was murder- 
ed- in Pomfret castle, Jah. 1400, and buried at Lano- 
ley, but afterv;ards removed to Westminster. 



45G AI>PENDIX, 

HENRY IV. duke of I^ancaster, grandson of Ed- 
i^ard III. born 1S67 ; married Mary, the daughter of 
the earl of Hereford, who died 1S94', before he obtained 
the crown ; fought with the duke of Norfolk 1397? and 
banished ; returned to England In arms against Rich- 
ard II. who resigned his kingdom, and Henry was 
crowned Oct. 13, 1399, when he instituted the order of 
the Bath, and created 4? knights ; conspired against, 
Jan. 1400 5 defeated by the Welsh, 1402; married a 
second queen, Joan of Navarre, widow of. the duke of 
Bretagne, 1403 ; she was crowned with great magnifi- 
cence the 26th of January following, and died in 1437 ; 
in 1403 the rebellion of the Percies began, suppressed 
July foUpwing. He died of an apoplexy in Westminster, 
March 20, 1413, was buried at Canterbury, and suc- 
ceeded by his son . 

HENRY V. who was born In 1388, and In 1412, 
when prince of Wales, was committed to prison for in- 
sulting one of the judges ; crdwned at Westminster 
April 9, 1413; claimed the crown of France 1414; 
gained the battle of Agincourt, Oct. 24, 1415 ; pledged 
his regalia for 20,000/. to extend his conquests, 
1416. The emperor Sigismund paid a visit to Henry, 
and was installed knight of the Garter, 1416. He 
invsaded Normandy with an army of 26,000 men, 1417 ; 
declared regent, and married Catharine of France 
on June 3, 1420. She was crowned at Westminster the 
February following ; outJived Henry, and was mar* 
ried afterwards to Owen Tudor, grandfather of Henry 
VII. Henry died of a pleurisy at Rouen, Aug. 31, 
1422, aged 34, was buried at Westminster, and suc- 
ceeded by 

HENRY VI. who was born atWindsorDec.6,1421 ; 
ascended the throne on Aug. 31, 1422 ; proclaimed king 
of France the same year ; crowned at Westminster, 
Nov. 6, 1429; crowned at Paris, Dec. 17, 1430 ; mar- 
ried to Margaret, daughter of the duke of Anjou, 
April 12, 1445 ; Jack Cade's insurrection, 1446; Henry 
taken prisoner at St. Alban's, 1455 ; but regained his 
liberty, 1461 ; and deposed March 5 following, by his 
fourth cousin Edward IV. ; fled into Scotland and tajcen 
prisoner In Lancashire, 1463 ; restored to his throne, 
1470; taken prisoner again by Edward, April 11, 



APPENDIX, 46-7 

I-i-'Ti : queen Margaret and her son taken prisoners at 
Tewkesbury by Edward, May 4 ; the prince killed in 
cold blood, May 21 ; and Henry murdered in the 
Tower, Jurrf 20 following, and buried at Chertsey, 
ag(^d 49. 

EDWARD IV. born at Rouen, April 29, 1443 ; de- 
scended from the third son of Edward III, elected king, 
March 5, 1461 ; and on March 13, before his corona- 
tion, was obliged to fight the battle of Towton, in 
which 35,781 Englishmen were killed, and only the 
earl of Devonshire taken prfsoner ! was crowned at 
Westminster, June 28, 1461 ; sat publicly with the 
judges in Westminster-Hall, 1463 ; married lady Eli- 
zabeth Grey, widow of sir John Grey, of Groby, 
March 1, 1464, who was crowned the 26th following. - 
Edward was taken prisoner by the earl of Warw^ick 
in Yorkshire, from whence he w^as brought to Lon- 
don, wiili his legs tied under his horse's belly, 1467 ; . 
escaped, but v/as expelled the kingdom, 1470; 
returned March 25, 1471 ; restored, and caused 
his brother, .he duke of Clarence, who had joined the 
earl of Warwick, to be drovvned in a butt of Malmsey 
wine, 1478 ; died of an ague at Westminster, April 9, 
1483 ; and was buried at Windsor, v/here his corpse was 
discovered undecayed on March 1 1, 1789, and his dress 
nearly perfect, as were the lineaments of his face. He 
was succeeded by his infant son 

EDWARD V. born Nov. 4, 1470 ; conveyed to the 
Tower, May 1483 ; deposed June 20 following, and, 
with the duke of York his brother, smothered scon after 
by order of^ their uncle, 

RICHARD III. duke of Gloucester, brother to Ed- 
ward IV. born 1453 ; took prince Edward, son of Henrj 
IV. prisonerat Tewkesbury, and murdered him in cold 
blood, 1471 ; drowned the duke of Clarence, brother to 
Edward IV. in a butt of Malmsey wine, 1478 ; made 
protector of ]Ejigland May 27, 1483 ; elected king, June 
20, and crowned July 6 following ; ditto at York 5ept. 
8; slain in battle at Bosworth, Aug. 22, 1485, .aged 
32 ; buried in Leicester, and succeeded by 

HENRY VII. bom 1455 ; wholandedatMilfordHa- - 
Yen> 1485 ; defeated Richard III. in Eosworth-field, 



458 APPENDIX. 

and was elected king, 14!B5 ; crowned October SOf 
1485; married Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV\ 
January 18, I486, who was crowned in Novem- 
ber following ; defeated Lambert Simnel, ^\e impostor, 
June 16, 1487 ; received of the French king, as"a 
compromise for his claim on that crown, 186,250/. 
besides 25,000 crowns yearly, 1492 ; prince Arthur, 
his eldest son, died April 2, 1502; queen Elizabeth 
died in childbed, February 11 follovving, and was bu- 
ried at Westminster^ Mary, h'S third daugliter, mar- 
ried Louis XIL of France, by whom she was left 
withcut: issi\e, and she re-married Charles Brandon, 
duke of Suffolk, by whom she had issue, and died 1535, 
and was buried at St. Edmrnidsbury, where her corpse 
was discovered' September 6, 1784, in a perfect state. 
8he was grandmother of the unfortunate lady Jane 
Grey. Henry married his daughter Margaret, to 
James IV. of Scotland, 1504 ; died of a consumption, 
at Richmond, April 22, 1509, aged 51^ buried at West- 
minster, and succeeded by his son 

HENRY VIII. born Jui>e 28, 1491, married Ca- 
tharine Infanta of Spain, widow of his brother Arthur^ 
Jmie 3, 1509 ; crowned June 24 follov. ing ; received the 
title of defender of the faith, 1521 ; styled head of the 
church, 1531 ; divorced cpicen Catharine, and married 
Anne Bulleyne, May 23, 1533 ; Anne crowned. June 1, 
1533 5 he v/as excommunicated by pope Paul, Aug. 30, 
J5Sq ; Catharine? his first queen, diedaiKimbolton, Jan. 
^, 1536, aged 50 j he put Anne,his second queen, to death, 
and married Jane Seymour, May 20, 1536, who died in 
childbed, Oct. 12, 1537 ; he dissolved the religious 
foundations in England, 1539 ; married Anne of Clever, 
Jan. 6, 1540; divorced her, July 10, 1540; married 
Catharine Hov/ard, his fifth wife, Aug. 8 following, 
and beheaded her on Tower-hill, with lady Rochford, 
Feb. 12, 1542; married Catharine Parr, his sixth 
wife, July 12, 1543. He died of a fever and an ulce- 
rated leg, at V/estminster, Jan. 28, 1547 ; was buried 
at Wind sor, and succeeded by his only son 

EDWARD VI. born October 12, 1537; crowned 
Sunday, Feb. 20, 1 547 ; v/ho died of a consumption at 
Greeuwich, J^alj 6; 15^3; v/as buried at Westminster, 



APPENDIX. 4^9 

^ and was succeeded, agreeably to his will, by his half- 
sister 

MARY, born Feb. 11, 1516 ; proclaimed July 19, 
1553 ; and crowned Oct. 1 fallowing ; married Philip 
of Spain, July 25, 1554 ; died of a dropsy, Nov. 17? 
1558 ; was buried at Westminster, and succeeded by 
her half-sister 

. ELIZABETH, born Sept. 7, 1533 ; sent prisoner 
to the Tower, 1551'; began to reign, Nov. 17, ^55S ; 
crowned at Westminster, Jan. 15, 1559; Mary queen 
of Scots fled to England, May 16, 1568, and was im- 
prisoned in Tutbury castle, Jan. 1569; Elizabeth re- 
lieved the protestants in the Netherlands with above 
200,000 crowns, besides stores, 1569 ; a marriage pro- 
posed to the queen by the duke of Alencon, l57l ^ 
but finally rejected, 1581 ; cruelly beheaded Mary 
queen of Scots, at Fotheringay castle, February 8, 
1587,' aged 44 ; destroyed the Spanish Armada, 1588 ; 
Tyrone's rebellion in Ireland, 1599 ; Essex, the queen^s 
favourite, beheaded, Feb. 25, 1602; the queen died at 
Richmond, March 24, 1603 ; was l3uried at Westmin- 
ster, and succeeded by the son of Mary queen of Scots, 
then James VL of Scotland. 

JAMES I. born at Edinburgh, June 19, 1566 ; was 
crowned king of Scotland, July 22, 1567 ; married 
Anne, princess of Denmark, Aug. 10, 1589 ; succeed* 
ed to the crown of England, March 24, 1603 ; first 
styled king of Great Britahi, 1604; arrived at Eon- 
don May 7 following ; lost his eldest son, Henry prince 
of Wales, Nov. 6, 1612, aged 18 ; married his daugh- 
ter Elizabeth to the prince Palatine of the Rhine, 
1612, from whom his present majesty George III. is 
descended; went to Scotland, March 4, 1617 ; re- 
turned Sept. 14, 1618; lost his queen, March 1619; 
died of an ague, March 27, 1625 ; was buried at West- 
minster, and was succeeded by 

CHARLES I. born Nov. 19, 1600; visited Madrid 
on a matrimonial scheme. Mar. 7? 1623 ; succeeded to 
the crown, March 27, 1625 ; mamed Henrietta, daugh- 
ter of the king of France, the same year j crowned 
Feb. 2, 1626 ; crowned at Edinburgh 1633 ; went to 
Scotland, August 1641; returned Nov* 25 following j 



469 APPENDIXr 

went to tl^e- House of Commons, and demanded the 
five members, Jan. 1641-2 ; retired to York, March 
1642 ; raised his standard at Nottingham, Aug. 25 fol- 
lowing ; travelled in the disguise of a servant, and put 
himself into the hands of the Scots, at Newark, Mayo, 
1646 ; sold by the Scots for 200,000/. Aug, 8 foijowing; 
seized by CoL Joice, at Holmby, June 3, 1647 ; escaped 
from Hampton-court, and retreated to the Isle of 
Wight, July 29, 1648; closely confined in Hurst castle, 
Dec, 1 following; removed to Windsor-castle, Dec. 23; 
to St. James's house, Jan. 19, 1649 ; brought to trial the 
next day, condemned the 27th, beheaded at Whitehall 
the 30th, aged 48, and buried in St. George's-chapel, 
Windsor. His queen, Henrietta, died at Paris, Aug. 
10, 1669. 

OLIVER CROMWELL, th- Usurper, was bom at 
Huntingdon, April 25, 1599; chosen member of par- 
liament for Huntingdon, 1628 ; raised co the rank of co- 
lonel 1643 : went over to IreLmd with his army, July 
1649; returned, May 1650; made Protector for life, 
December 12, 1653; readmiLted the Jews into Eng- 
land, in 1656. after their expulsion 365 years ; refused 
the title of king, May 8, 1657; died at Whitehall, 
Sept. 3, 1658, and succeeded by his son 

RlCHAPvD CROMWELL, proclaimed protector, 
Sept. 4, 1658 ; deposed April 22, 1659 ; died at Ches- 
hunt, in Hertfordshire, July 2, 1712, aged 82. 

CHARLES II. born May 29, 1630; escaped from 
St. James's April 23, 1648 ; landed in Scotland, 1650 : 
crowned at Scone Jan. 1, 1651 ; defeated at the battle 
of Worcester, 1651 ; landed at Dover, May 20, 1660, 
and restored to the throne ; croviTied, April 13, 1661 ; 
married Catharine infanta of Portugal, May 21, 1662; 
accepted the city freedom, Dec. 13, 1674 ; died Feb. 6, 
1685, aged 54, of an apoplexy, was buried at West- 
minster, and v/as succeeded by his brother James. 
Catharine his queen died, Dec. 21, 1705. 

JAMES II. born October 15, 1633 ; married Ann^ 
Hyde, Sept. 1660, who died 1671 ; m.arried the prin- 
cess of Modexia, November 21, 1673 ; succeeded to the 
throne, February 6, 1685 ; Monmouth, natural son to 



APPENDIX. 461 

Charles II. landed in England, Jane II, 1635; proclaim- 
ed king at Taunton, in Somersetshire, June 20 follow- 
ing ; defeated near Bridgewatcr, July 5 ^ beheaded on 
Tower-hill July 15 following, aged 35 ; James's queen 
had a son born June 10, 1688. Fled from his palace, 
Dec. 12, 1688 ; was seized soon after at Feversham, 
and brought back to Whitehall ; left England Dec. 23 
following; landed at Kinsale, in Ireland, March 12, 
1689; returned to France, July 1690; died at St. 
Germain's, August 6, 1701. 

WILLIAM^III. Prince of Orange, born Nov. 4, 
1650 ; created Stadtholder, July 3, 1672 ; married the 
princess Mary cf England, Nov. 4, 1677 : landed at 
Torbay, in England, with an army, Nov. 4, 1688 ; de- 
clared king of JEngland, Feb. IS, 1689; crowned with 
the queen, April 11, 1689; landed at Carrickfergus, 
June 14, 1690, and defeated Ji^mes II. at the battle of 
the Boyne, July 1 following ; a plot laid for assassinat- 
ing him, Feb. 1696; fell from his horse and broke his 
coHar bone, Feb. 21, 1702 ; died March 8, aged 51 ; 
was buried April 12 following, and left his sister-in- 
law, Anne, his successor to the crown. 

ANNE, born Feb. 6, 1665 ; married to prince 
George of Denmark, July 28, 1683 ; by whom she had 
thirteen children, all of v/hom died young ; she came 
to the crown, March 8, 1702; crowned April 13 foU 
lowing ; lost her son, George, duke of Gloucester, by 
a fever, July 29, 1700, aged 11 ; lost her husband, who 
died of an asthma and dropsy, Oct. 28, 1708, aged 55 ; 
the queen died of an apoplexy, Aug. 1, 1714, aged 49; 
was buried at Westminster, and succeeded by 

GEORGE I. elector of Hanover, duke of Bruns- 
wick-Lunenburgh, born May 28, 1660 ; created duke 
of Cambridge, Uz. Oct. 5, 1706. Princess Sophia, his 
mother, died June 8, 1714, aged 83. He was pro-* 
claimed, Aug. 1, 1714; landed at Greenwich, Sept. 18 
following ; died on his journey to Hanover, at Osna- 
burgh, Sunday, June 11, 1727, of a paralytic disorder, 
aged 67j and was succeeded by his eldest son . 

GEORGE II. born Oct. 30, 1683 ; created prince 
of Wales, Oct. 4, 1714; married the princess WilheU 



462 APPENDIX. 

mina-Carolma-Dorotliea, of Brandenburg-Anspath, 
1704; ascended the throne, June 11, 1727; lost hij. 
queen, Nov. 20, 1737, aged 51; suppressed a rebel- 
lion, 174-5 ; died suddenly at Kensington, Oct. 25,. 
1760, aged 77, and was succeeded by his grandson, 

GEORGE III. eldest son of Frederick, late prince 
of Wales, born June 4, 17-'8 ; created prince of Wales, 
1751 ; succeeded his grandfather, Oct. 25, 1760; pro- 
claimed the next day ; married Charlotte-Sophia, prin- 
cess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Sept. 8, 1761, who was 
born May 19> 1744. Both were crowned September 
22, 1761 ; commenced war with the American colonies 
in 1775 ; acknowledged their indeperidence inl7S2; 
began a war with France, 1 793 ; concluded peace in 
Jb02 : war begun again in 1803. 

THE END. 



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a Young Geiiiieman 10 his Sister, with several Views and a lage 
Map, pri.e 3-. 6d. half bo-'tid. 

A PUZZLE for a CURIOUS GIRL, displaying the il! Effeas 
of ill-p!3ced Cur o iry. with thirteen Plates, price 2& 6d. 

POPULAR STORIES, con-stngof ne v^iul imp oved Tans- 
lati ns, or Revised Edito •?, of the Tale--, Legend-, and Romances 
hitherto heki in ge-ieral E timafon m the N'>r ery, b'jt debased 
by vu'gar c^nd often by ind-cnt Language. Tlie St )rie?. thus ele- 
gantly re- wiitteo m chaste and modern Laflguajze, and here pub- 
lished in one Collection, embellished w th num.erous Cop.e.- 
gUtes, co-.sist of Cinderella; Blue Beard; Tom Thumb ; Jack 
tke Giant Killer ; Whittingtoa and his_Cat-; Robui Hood ; Sleep- ' 



BOOKS recently puhJhhed by R. PHILLIPS. 

ing Beauty ; rorrunatus; V lentiiie and ^tii n ; Children in the 
Wooti ; Good. l\v -Shoes , The Seven Ciumpivons, ^c &c., in 
three Parts, price 2S. od. each Fart ^ or sS. cd. with the Plates 
Coloured. 

A'. B. Ei'bjr of ire fon^'.in^ Sfcrjesy THIRTY /« number^ w^ty 
he b : I isp^ratelyy .jnbelUihed 'Wiih ibrcc biuuiiful cJound Plaidi^ p'ice 
6 J. each. 

Ak Easy GRAMMAR of HISTORY, Antient and Modern, 
containing a brief expression of ihe leading facts in History, 
written so as to bs commit::*^ to memory, with questions and 
exercises, by means of wiiich History may be taught in schools, 
on the plan of Goldsmith's easy 'Grammar of Geography. By 
the Rev J. Rcbinso>j, price 3s. bound. • 

The JUVENILE PLUTARCH, cor^taining the Lives of cle- 
brated Childrcrn, ard Accounts of the early Progress of remark- 
able Men ; calculated to excite in Y.un^ Minds a S^i it of Emu- 
lation ; wit^- severvl PUres, : rice 2s. 6d. 

UNIVERSAL HISTORY, abridg d ; containing a popular 
View of the History m .he World, ab£tracted chiefly from the 
great History of Dr- Mavor ; uiih M.ips, price 2S.. 6d. 

SCRIPTURE HISTORIES, con.istui^ of a Sel ction of all 
the interesting Narratives and in^u ated Biographies and Hi- 
st ries contdncd in the Od and New Te.tamcvit, in the Lan- 
guage of tho e Holy Scriptures ; prir-trd in a lirge Type, and 
illustrated \vith Cpper-plates, in :. Vols, price :4s. half-bound. 
The WONDERS of the TELESCOPE, or a famili .r and 
popular Display of th^ Solar Sys rm ■m\(\ the -.tarry Heavens, on a 
Plan cakula ed to gi^ e a new Inte e.t to the Stuoy of Astronomy, 
w th nu r.erous !arge PUtes prce 4s. 6d 

The W^ONDERS of the MICROSCOPE, or a Display of the 
Wo ders of the Creat on in coTparative'y minute "Objects, with 
numerous large PI tes, pice 3s. 6d, half-be und. 

POETRY for CHILDREN, consist ng of Selections from the 
beht Poets, interspersed with O.iginal Pieces by Miss Aik in, 
adapted to Children, pric^" ^s. 

MINCE PIES fcr CHRISTMAS, ^nd for every Season op 
THE Year ; consisting of the best Riddles, Charades, Rebuses, 
&c. &c., calculated to exercise the Invention and Fancy of 
Young Persons of b th S-xes, price 2s. 6d. 

The LIFE of CARLO, the famous Dog of Drury-lane 
Theatre, containing various Anecdjtes of the Fideluy and Sa^jacity 
of Dogs ; with Plates, price is. 

FIRST GOING to SCHOOL, or A History of the Feelings and 
A.ive itures of TOM BROWN on his Fust Going to School, with 
LETTERS to his SISTERS j and adorned With beautiful En- 
gravings, price 2S. 

MEMO'lRS o\ DICK tlie LITTLE PONEY, an entertaining 
Narrative cjIcu ated to teach Humanity to that useful Animal 
the Hcrse ; price as. 

The LIFE ad ADVENTURES of ROBINSON CRUSOE, 
adapied to the Use of Young Persons, and embellished w^ith 16 
Engravings^ price 4s. 6d. pl-ain, or 7s, coloured. 



BOOKS recently ptiUished by R. PHILLIPS. 

Mx\RY and her CAt, a familiar and pleasins Story, in J 
Words not exceeding Two Syllables, with 12 Plates, price is. " 
. PRESENTS for GOOD GIR% chiefly m Words of One • 
Syllable vv'ith 12 coloured Plates, price is. 

PRESENTS for GOOD BOYS, mWcids of One and Two 5^.1- 
lahles w-th rz cdoi'.red Plates, prce is. 

NEW DIALOGUES for GOOD CHILDREN. By M. P. with 
numerc^us Cuts, price is. 

PROVERBS; or, the WISDOM of ALL AGES and NA- 
TIONS concentrat.:J in a single Volume; price 2s/£d. in boards. 

NURSERY SONGS; being a Col:ectiou 6f the smal; Bsi ads 
USualb; snng i.a the Nursery 5 price 6d. 

The HI-STORV of BRITISH DOMESTIC QTJADRUPEDS, 
illustrated with entertaining Anecdotes and numerous Engray- 
ings ; price 2s. 6d. in boards. 

The HISTORY of TELEMACHUS, with several coloured 
plates, price is. 

The LIFE of BELISARIUS, with several coloured plates, is 

The LITTLE HEi^MITAGE, a tale illustrating the Arts of 
Life, price is. 

The FRENCH and ENGLISH PRIMER, being an easy Vo- 
cabulary of the French Language, with some simple Phrases j 
in a lari^e Type, for tiie first age, price is. 

The FiRSr FRENCH GRAMMAR, containing the Acci- 
dence only, drawn up for tlv^ Use of the Authoress's own Chil- 
dren, by E. Wilson, price is. 6d. 

A SYNTAX to the Same, both adapted to the earliest 
Age, by E. Wilson, also price is. 6d. 

EXERCISES to the Same, price is. 6d. 

PASY DIALOGUES, price is. 6d. 
^ PIECES CHOISIES de L'AMI des ENFANS, de M. Ber^^uin, 
a rUsage des Ecoles, in one volume, price 4s. bound. 

THEATRE D'EDUCaTION, par Madame Genlis, 3 tomes, 
price ics. 6d. • 

The ELfcMENfS of LAND SURVEYING, including the 
Theory and the Practice of that useful Art in all its branches ; 
desi^-- ed .principally for the Use of Schools. By A CROCKER, 
Land Surveyor, of Froome, in Somersetshire. With numerous 
plates, price 7s. bound. 

The ELEMENTS of EUCLID, by Robert Simson, price 8s, 

The CLASS BOOK ; or, '] HREE HUNDRED and SiXTY- 
FIVE READING LESSONS lor SCHOOLS, consisting of the 
most elegant and beautiful passages from the best authors, se- 
lected with a vie\v to produce a. .standard English Class-book, 
and to teach at the same time all the leading principles of Re- 
ligion, Morah'ty, and Science. Arranged under the respective 
diys of the month Not only have the best pieces in prose and 
vei-se been tai< en from the various Speakers, Readers, Elegant 
Extracts, &;c. &c. which are already before the public, but the 
works of every modern writer have been sedulou-ly consulted, 
and every beauty has been gleaned for the use 6f a w6rk 
"which it is intended shall acquire and maintain pre-eminence 
in ail schools. By the Rev. DAVID BLAIR, price 4'^. 6d. 



BOOKS recenilyfuhrnhed by R PHILLIPS. 

A New^ (^y^ '-]■-- ;>^?erZ :?i Ticclve Months, 

On the firit i)'tv o. ' • T.uMisIied in Quarto, 

A PART OF .- .. OIOUS 

DICTIONARY OF Ai^iS A^.D SCIi^NCES, 

To be completed wit!-;ii ihc year, by the public^tid^i of <'^'' e Part 

on the firs: d:iv of every sub^eqaer't Mcavh; the \-' ' " ^e;" 

Twelve Piirts, or Two large and elegant Quarto ■ " . 

One Hundred Copperplates by Mr. Hkath and Iv.., : v..^.. ,^ 
BY G. GREGORY, D. D. . 

Doctor in Philosophy and the Arts, and Honornrv IVIeniljor of 

the Imperial University of Wihia ; Member of the Manchester 

and Newcastle liiterary and PhilosophtcU Societies; Honorary 

Member of the Board of Agriculture ; 'Author of Essays His- ^ 

torical and Moral, the Economy of Nature, ii^c. 

A DICTIONARY of ARTS and SCIENCES in a compendi- 
ous foi'm, sufficiently copious without beiao; prolix, accurate but 
not dilRise, divested of all superfluous matter, compressing rather 
tlian copying what has been done by others, and exhibiting a clear 
but concise view of the present state of the various branches of 
iiuman knowledge, has long been a most ^desirable object to the 
English reader. 

A Dictionary is properly a work of reference, and not of de- 
tail ; and those w^ho wish to become adepts in any one art or 
science, wdll scarcely study it from an Encyclopsedia exclusively. 

That a complete viev/ of the arts and sciences may however be 
exhibited on a smaller scale than is usually attempted, will be ob- 
vious, if we consider that the Cyclopedia of Chambers was origi- 
nally comprised in two volumes fcUo, large and open printing ; 
that' the first edition or the Encyclopredia Britannica extended 
only to three thin A^olumes quarto ; and that many excellent works 
of a similar kind, and not of a greater extent, have been published 
in foreign countries. The retre.iu:hment also of many superflu- 
ous and useless articles, which have latterly found their v/ay into 
books of this description, will evidently cause a considerable re- 
duction in point of size, without in reality impairing the intrinsic 
value and general utility of the work. 

Should, therefore, the execution not disappoint the hopes and 
expectations of thos*:: v/ho have projected the New Dictionary of 
Arts and Sciences, the following are the immediate advantages 
which they trust they may with reason and mo4esty promise to 
its purchasers. \ 

First, It will exhibit a compendium of all huiWn knowledge, 
the more luminous because cleared of all extraneous matter ; ra- 
ther practical than speculative ; and in which particul;ir attention 
will be paid to the most useful branches. 

Sf-cond, It will be of a convenient and comparatively portable 
size, calculated to lie on the table of every studious person, as a 
book of constant reference. 

TiiniD, It will be printed so as to correspond with the quarto 
editions of Dr. Johnson's Dictionary ; and the possessors of both 
works will thus have, in four quarto volumes, and at a moderate 



BOOKS recently puhhshcd by R.' PHILLIPS. 

■^— ' 
crpence, all the literary aid which the English student ut rcadeK 
can possibly require. 

I'he work, will be neatly printed in a new and eleg-ant brevier "' 
type, cast expressly for this purpose, on superfine yellow wove 
paper. The miscellaneous copper -plates will be engraved chieiiy 
from original drawings, by Mr. Heath, and the nieclianicrtl sub- 
jects by Mr. Porter. They will equal any plates ever given to 
the public in a work of this nature ; and those referred to in each 
part will be regularly done up with the corresponding letter- 
press. 

An EASY GRAMMAR of Philosophy, containing the.leatling 
principles of the various sciences, wih questions and exercicies, 
by means of which philosophy may be taught practically in 
schools, on the plan of Go'damith's Easy Gramrjiar of Geogra- 
phy, with plates, price 3s. bound. 

MOORE'S NAVIGATION, the last edition, revised and im- 
proved, price los. 6d. bound. 

This valuable elementary w^ork having now stood the test of 
experience during nearly half a century, and being improved 
in every edition by the introduction of all veal improvements in 
the art of Navigation, it cannot fail to maintain th^t monopoly 
of this branch of science which it has so long deservedly en- 
joyed. 

A PRACTICAL TREATISE on DIET, and on the most 
salutrry and agreeable means of supporting life and health by 
aliment and regimen. Adapted to the various cirrumstances of 
Age, Constitution, and Climate ; and including the application 
of Modern Chemistry to the culinary preparation of food. By 
WILLIAM NISBET, M. D. Fellow of the Royal College of 
Surgeons, Edinburgh; author of the Clinical Guide,-&c. la 
one volume, 12 mo. price 6s. 

*' We are convinced that^his compendious work> on the im- 
portant subject of diet, will prove a v^uable and acceptalde 
present to the public." McdkalMnd Physical Journal. 

** in this ])resen.t work Dr. Nisbet has performed a service, 
which deserves the thanks of every good man zealous of public 
utility. No family ought to neglect the perusal of a book sw 
agreeable, and so interestmgly instructive " 

LondAn Medical Review, 

The family PHYSICIAN ; or, DOMESTIC MEDICAL 
FRIEND 5 containing plain and practical instructions for the 
prevention and cure of diseases, according to the latest im- 
pFovements and discoveries : comprising every thing relative to 
the theory and practice of the medical art, adapted fo the use 
of the heads of schools and families. By ALEXANDER 
THOMPSON, M D. Price 6s. in boards, or 7s. bound 

*** This is at once the completest, the mo&t moderiv, and 
the cheapest book of family medicine extant. 

Printed hy R.Taylor and Co., 38, ShQe-Lam, 



